Paradise Circus
by Lila2
Summary: Klaus takes Caroline on a trip, but he's the one to see the world.
1. Oh, well  The devil makes us sin

**Title:** "Paradise Circus"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating:** PG-13

**Character/Pairing:** Caroline, Klaus

**Spoiler:** "All My Children"

**Length:** Part I of III

**Summary****:** Klaus takes Caroline on a trip, but he's the one to see the world.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note: **Apparently can't stop writing Caroline/Klaus fic, even thought I do want to finish "Be So Happy." What can you do, right? Title courtesy of Massive Attack (and Hope Sandoval!). Enjoy.

* * *

><p>Klaus doesn't forgive and he doesn't forget.<p>

He's roamed the earth for 1,000 years; he's learned to hold a grudge.

Tyler comes home before he's ready, tugging at his bonds with all his might.

His resolve is strong but some circumstances are impossible to change: there's a voicemail on Caroline's cell and a strange tone to Klaus's voice and when she arrives at the clearing he has Tyler strung up from a tree with one hand plunged into his chest.

"I don't take well to betrayal," Klaus tells her calmly, fingers tightening around Tyler's heart. She watches the boy she loves contort in agony, his face turning a horrible shade of purple. He tries to say her name but he chokes on the hand squeezing out his (non)life.

She turns to Klaus with tear-filled eyes and gasps at the look in his. They're bright and blazing and if her heart truly beat, now is the time it would grind to a halt in her chest. She can't remember the last time she felt so scared.

"I'm sorry," she pleads. "I didn't know what they had planned."

"But you knew there was a plan." His jaw tightens and Tyler's eyes start bugging out of his face.

"Please, don't do this." She stops caring about the tears in her voice or blinding her vision. She already lost her father and stood by Bonnie while she mourned her mother; she can't handle losing someone else she loves.

Klaus's face relaxes and a blood-stained hand slides out from Tyler's chest. She ignores him while she cuts Tyler down, holds him in her arms while he gasps around the blood pooling in his lungs.

Klaus picks up Tyler's shirt, wipes his hands clean. "Don't think there will be a second chance."

"I hate you," she hisses, strokes the hair back from Tyler's brow.

Klaus shrugs. "Flip side of love and all." He pulls on his jacket, casts one long look in her direction; his eyes rake her from head to toe. "I'll be seeing you, Caroline."

His boots thud into the distance and she holds Tyler tighter, tries to shake the heat that still lingers from his gaze.

She wishes the only thing in her heart could be indifference.

* * *

><p>Caroline takes Tyler home.<p>

Carol gasps when she takes in the gaping hole in her son's chest, but immediately springs to action.

Covers are pulled back and a warm cloth lain on his brow and within five minutes Tyler is sprawled out in his childhood bed with a woman who loves him on either side.

Carol holds her son's hand, leans over to press a kiss to his forehead. Her eyes widen as the wound literally closes in front of them, but smiles tightly and doesn't cry out. Caroline admires how hard she's working to remain strong; her own mother didn't handle the truth nearly so well.

"It's every parent's fear that they'll outlive their children," Carol says. She glances at Tyler's chest, the smooth expanse of skin where there used to be an ugly wound. "I guess I'm lucky not to have that problem."

Caroline wants to agree, but her thoughts are filled with her father, the man she believed would always be there for her only to betray her and leave before she was ready. It won't hurt any less when she loses her mother. "He's still going to lose you," she says softly.

Carol's eyes fill with tears but Caroline knows it's not all because of Tyler. "Oh, honey. I'm so sorry."

"I keep forgetting," Caroline says. "He didn't live here, but he's not just a phone call away anymore. I'm never going to see him again."

"I thought the same thing when Richard died. He worked so much…every night, I waited for him to come home." She pauses, leans over to brush Tyler's hair back from his brow. "When you lose someone you love, the pain eases but it never really goes away." Caroline nods, takes Tyler's other hand in hers and squeezes. His skin is cool but she can feel the pulse in his wrist. He's alive, and that's what matters. "I'm sorry, you know," Carol says and Caroline looks up. "For what I did to you over the summer. Back then…I didn't understand."

Caroline sees the fragile look in Carol's eyes, the thin thread holding her sanity together. It's not every woman who could fight vampires but love the son that's become one. "I forgive you," Caroline says even though a part of her will never forget what this woman set in motion. She forgives because she's going to live forever and it's much too long to hold a grudge.

Carol nods her thanks and they sit together in silence until Tyler wakes up gasping Caroline's name. Carol sighs in relief and folds her son in her arms. He smiles at Caroline over his mother's shoulder, but there's still fear shadowing his eyes. She swallows her guilt and smiles back. It's her fault that he almost died.

"Take care of him," Carol whispers, squeezes Caroline's shoulder before leaving her alone with Tyler.

"I thought I'd be strong enough," Tyler says, falls back on the pillows and closes his eyes. "I'm never going to get away from him, am I?"

Caroline curls into his side, rests her head beside his. Not for the first time, she holds him in her arms while he cries. "We'll figure something out," she promises, takes Tyler's future into her hands. Love means making sacrifices and she's the reason for his pain. She's the only one who can make this right.

Klaus's warning repeats in her mind – there's no second chances when making a deal.

* * *

><p>It doesn't take long to make her decision.<p>

Caroline goes home and writes her mom a note: tells her that she loves her, tells her that she doesn't know when she's coming back.

She decides to travel light; she's already carrying enough baggage in her heart.

Tyler's bracelet is the only thing she takes from her old life.

* * *

><p>She shows up on Klaus's doorstep and wraps her arms around her waist.<p>

She tells herself it's the cold, but she stopped noticing temperature the day she died. She presses harder, fingers digging into her ribs, literally holds herself together.

Klaus leans against the doorjamb, lips quirking into a mocking smile. "I knew you'd be back."

"You need to let Tyler go."

"Do I?" His smile widens into a full-on grin.

She unwinds her arms and holds up her hands in supplication. "You wanted to show me the world. Now's your chance."

"And in return?"

"I know you can't break the sire bond, but you can let Tyler have his life back. Stop asking him for things." She pauses and raises her head to stare right into his eyes. "Stop using him to get to me."

Klaus straightens. "If I let Tyler go, you'll come with me?"

She reminds herself that love means sacrifice; love means Tyler being safe at all costs. She holds out her hand, suppresses the urge to flinch as Klaus's fingers slide through hers. "Whatever you want," she says, tries to shake his hand and formalize the deal.

Instead, he lowers his head and presses a kiss to the back of her hand, soft lips brushing over her skin. "We have promises to keep. And miles to go before we sleep."

She jerks her hand away, concentrates on what she's achieved: Tyler's safe and she'll get to see the world.

She regrets her decision already.

* * *

><p>They don't leave immediately.<p>

Klaus hands her his credit card and tells her to buy whatever she needs. She didn't get to shop the last time; she won't blow this opportunity.

She buys dresses and shoes, coats and purses, buys so much she has to fill her backseat because her trunk is overflowing. She buys and buys until the card is declined.

It feels almost as good as the time she told him that his father didn't love him.

* * *

><p>She's sorting through her new purchases when Rebekah makes a surprise appearance and comes to an awkward halt beside the bed.<p>

Caroline has nothing to say to her, the girl who made a play for Tyler and put Matt in danger and slept with Damon while he was in love with Elena. So she ignores her, folds a silk negligee and places it in the suitcase.

She feels the bed shift as Rebekah sits down but she still has nothing to say and continues to fold her underwear. It's La Perla and made entirely of lace. She represses the sigh; she'll never own anything else this nice.

Rebekah is quiet for a long time and silently folds a stack of sweaters. Neither girl says anything; both are reluctant to break the silence. "You don't have to do this," Rebekah finally says, twists one of Caroline's t-shirts into a tight ball.

Caroline shakes her head in disgust. She's learned the hard way that Originals can't be trusted. "Aren't you supposed to be shagging Damon ragged right now?"

"Being rude won't change the subject." Rebekah repeats herself, reaches out to rest a hand on Caroline's knee. "You don't have to do this." Caroline sighs and stops cutting tags off her new bras.

"Yes, I do. It means Tyler will be safe."

"There are other ways."

"Why do you care?" A week ago, they spent an entire fancy dress ball staring daggers at each other. She doesn't understand Rebkah's sudden interest in saving her.

"I've spent lifetimes with Nik," Rebekah says and she might be one of the deadliest creatures on the face of the earth, but she's also a girl whose mother just tried to murder her. Her fingers rattle against Caroline's jeans. "He doesn't like to share his toys."

"I know what I'm doing," Caroline says but she can't bring herself to look into Rebekah's eyes. She's afraid of what she'll see there.

Rebekah's grip tightens on Caroline's knee and she grabs Caroline's wrist, digs in her nails until Caroline meets her eyes. Hers are wild and filled with caution. "No, you don't."

Caroline twists away and drops her gaze, turns back to the clothes strewn across the bed. "This isn't your business," she says, layers venom into her voice.

Rebekah sighs but stops trying. "Remember, I warned you," she says to Caroline's back; Caroline suppresses the flinch when the door clicks shut.

She turns back to clothes littering the bed, the sweaters and t-shirts and underwear and cocktail dresses. She blocks out Rebekah's warning, tries to focus on the task before her.

She can't keep her hands from shaking.

* * *

><p>She ignores Klaus on the way over.<p>

They're going somewhere in Europe, but she refuses to look at the departure sign and wears her headphones when their flight is called.

She's agreed to be a pawn, but this is his game. The rules are his to make.

* * *

><p>She spends the entire flight reading.<p>

There are three months left in her senior year and Mr. Saltzman has agreed to sponsor an independent study; Damon will convince Principal Reed.

She's lugged along a history textbook and loaded her kindle with classics, even signed up for a calc class on the University of Phoenix site.

She left Mystic Falls ranked third in her class, a shoe-in for prom queen, waiting for that letter from UVA welcoming her to join the class of 2016.

She'll never give a speech at graduation or wear a tiara in her hair or live on the Lawn, but she only needs one high school diploma.

She won't let it go without a fight.

* * *

><p>They start in Rome.<p>

Caroline is silent while Klaus steers them through customs and collects their luggage at the baggage claim.

He hasn't tried to make small talk and she hasn't forced the subject. There's nothing she can say to him that he doesn't already know.

He touches her instead: grabs her hand when she starts for the wrong custom's line, rests his fingers on her waist when a _poliziotto_ smiles at her.

She doesn't shrug off his hand even though it feels like a lead weight holding her down.

She glances at the policeman, notes the friendly warmth in his brown eyes.

She can't have another death on her conscience.

* * *

><p>She's takes in the city on the way to the hotel.<p>

It's a sea of mopeds and people, men in tight jeans and women carrying designer purses.

She counts churches and fountains, opens her mouth in amazement when they zip by the Colosseum. She can't believe _Caroline Forbes_ gets to see these things.

Klaus breaks the tense silence filling the car and talks to her for the first time since their plane left Richmond. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

She makes the mistake of turning away from the window because it means looking into his eyes. They're shadowed, but they linger over her face. When he looks at her that way, she's not sure he's talking about the city.

"Yeah, it is," she agrees because it's freaking _Rome _and she won't let him spoil it for her.

"I haven't been here in almost two centuries," he says. "After unification, the city was never the same."

She rolls her eyes and doesn't respond. He can't impress her when he's holding her hostage.

They lapse back into silence and it fills the tiny taxi, makes her shift in her seat but she can't get comfortable. She doesn't know what she hates more: that he has the power to make her skin crawl, or how desperate she is to make it stop.

She chooses the latter, hates herself a little more for engaging him. "Why did you bring me here?" she asks. She doesn't look at him, even when she feels his eyes on her.

"Rome is the Eternal City. When all else is gone, it will still be here." His voice is soft but it isn't menacing. It's the way he spoke to her the night of the ball, like a man rather than a monster.

"Everything disappears eventually."

He reaches out and grasps her chin in his fingers, turns her head so she can't avoid his gaze. Even in the darkness of the cab, she can feel the burning blue of his eyes. "Not us."

It takes epic willpower to keep tears from springing to her eyes.

She's already given him so much. She's not ready to turn over forever.

* * *

><p>They share a hotel room.<p>

There are two beds but one bathroom and he makes himself comfortable while she studies herself in the mirror.

_…beautiful, strong, full of light…_

They're Klaus's words, but she tries to make them stick. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but strength is undeniable.

That night flashes through her mind, the agony etched into Tyler's face and the terror in his eyes. She remembers how scared she felt; how much the guilt weighed her down.

She turns back to the mirror, snuffs out the light.

She already knows she's beautiful.

She only hopes she can be strong.

* * *

><p>Klaus is sprawled in a chair, sketchpad in hand.<p>

He doesn't look up when she steps out. Instead, he furrows his brow and the charcoal scribbles faster over the parchment. She can't see what he's drawing, but she hopes it's not another horse.

She doesn't want a reminder of the time she almost let him in.

She draws her robe tighter across her stomach. She's paying too high a price as is.

"I'm ready," she says but he doesn't look up until the thin robe drops to the floor in a rustle of silk.

He doesn't say anything but he does swallow hard as he takes in what she has to offer. She keeps her gaze fixated over his shoulder, forces Tyler's mangled chest into her mind, never takes her eye off the prize.

"My, my," he finally murmurs. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined."

"I'm yours," she says, keeps her eyes from looking at his face. "Whatever you want."

He puts aside the sketchpad and rises, crosses the few feet separating them. "Caroline," he breathes. "You don't know how beautiful you truly are."

She waits for him to touch her, trace patterns over her skin, but he doesn't so much as brush against her. Instead, he circles her, leans in close, so his breath blows her hair back from her face, and whispers in her ear. "I want to draw you."

"What?" A wave of heat flashes through her and she's thankful he can't see the blush creeping from her breasts to her cheeks.

He returns to the chair and settles in, flips to a fresh page in his sketchpad, and acts like he didn't hear her. "There." He points to her bed. "I want to draw you there." He smiles when she doesn't move and his voice is gentle again. "Lie down, Caroline."

The tenderness in his voice snaps her into the moment and she storms to the bed and lies down on her stomach, acutely aware of her bare butt sticking up in the air.

He laughs but doesn't get up. "If that's the face you want to offer the world, it's your choice. I much prefer your real one."

She turns to glare at him and his expression softens. She realizes how she looks, hair falling around her face while she stares at him from beneath thick lashes. She looks like…she looks like she wants this. "You really want to draw me?"

"You are one of my passions."

She knows she should turn in for the night and pretend this never happened, but she doesn't. She always wanted to be Rose DeWitt Bukater when she grew up. There's no harm in living out one fantasy when she's let so many go.

"Okay," she says. "Tell me what to do."

She follows his lead and becomes the girl he wants her to be.

* * *

><p>Writers live for feedback – please leave some if you have the time.<p> 


	2. History will be kind to me

**Title:** "Paradise Circus"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating: **PG-13

**Character/Pairing:** Caroline, Klaus

**Spoiler:** "All My Children"

**Length:** Part II of III

**Summary****:** Klaus takes Caroline on a trip, but he's the one to see the world.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note:**

Couple things:

1. Thank you for the support. I'm having a blast writing this fic and reminiscing about my various trips to Europe, so it's been a bit of a trip down memory lane for me.

2. I hope it's cool, but the history nerd in me was so ANNOYED by the flagrant disregard of facts that I rewrote the Originals backstory to better match what actually happened.

3. This fic is looking to be longer than I originally intended. Hope that's cool too.

Title courtesy of Massive Attack. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Caroline can't meet Klaus's eyes.<p>

He's up before her and leaves the curtains open so bright, blinding light streams in. With the room so well lit, there's nowhere to hide.

"Good morning," he says, watches her from his chair. He's all the way across the room but her cheeks flush from the way he looks at her over his coffee cup.

The night is over but her skin still burns.

* * *

><p>She gets ready in silence, thankful for the early March weather.<p>

It's chilly enough for sweaters and she chooses a bulky wool cableknit that hangs to her knees.

Klaus watches her dress.

Even when she's fully clothed, she still feels naked.

* * *

><p>Caroline signed up for an adventure with Klaus, but that doesn't mean she wants to spend every waking moment in his company.<p>

He doesn't agree.

"Where are we going?" he asks and pulls on his jacket. She's added a peacoat and hat and is rummaging through her suitcase for her gloves. Her guidebook is stowed neatly in her purse and her day has already been planned. Her hands still and she straightens.

"_I'm _spending the day touring the old city."

Klaus slips a messenger bag over his jacket. "I know the perfect tour guide."

"I want to be alone."

Klaus smiles and doesn't back down. "You wanted to see the world. How could you do it without me?"

She remembers the deal she made, practically wrote the terms in Tyler's blood. She's come too far to renege now.

"Fine," she says, slings her own bag across her chest. "But I get to make the plan."

His smile only widens. "You always do."

* * *

><p>She soon realizes that traveling with Klaus is really a trip down memory lane – his memory lane.<p>

When he sulks or pouts or stares at her with heated eyes, it's easy to forget he's lived for over a thousand years. When they're confronted with history, she can't ignore the lives he's lived.

They're touring the Forum when he stops beside a massive arch, his mouth compressed into a thin line.

Her guidebook tells her that it's the Arch of Titus, erected in the first century AD in honor of the emperor's victory during the Siege of Jerusalem. She watches his expression change as they take in the arch's southern panel.

"I was there," he says softly, reaches out to run his fingers over the candelabra. "My legion was the one to cut them down."

"You were not in the Roman military." She doesn't believe him, even when he looks at her with those sorrowful eyes.

"Yes, I was. I was young, strong, and there was great wealth in the East."

"What was it like?"

"Violent. Brutal. Wonderful." Nostalgia fills his voice and a hint of a smile curves his mouth.

"How could it be brutal and wonderful?"

The smile widens. "There was gold and jewels. More than enough food." She shudders because she knows exactly what – who – he fed on. "It was hard to walk away."

"But you did."

"Yes, eventually. It was…enough."

They fall into silence and she studies the images carved into ancient stone. In a thousand years, she'll have more than marble to tell her stories.

"Were you ever in the army?" She finally asks, wonders what other monuments to his past that Klaus has left behind.

He doesn't take his eyes from the arch. "No."

"Why not?" He's going to live forever; she assumes he'd spend years amongst the spoils of war.

He turns to her and his eyes darken in the sunlight. "I'd had enough death in my life."

He abandons the arch, stalks towards the Temple of Vesta. Caroline hurries after him, twists her ring so the lapis lazuli digs into her skin.

There will always be death in their lives.

* * *

><p>The stories keep coming.<p>

He tells her about chariot rides in the Circus Maximus and worshipping at the Pantheon. They tour the Colosseum and he points to one of the gates, casually mentions the lion that tried to devour him.

"It was terrified," he says, that familiar nostalgic smile playing over his lips. "I could hear its heartbeat but it couldn't feel mine. And then it was nothing at all."

Caroline tries to imagine Klaus in leather and steel, ceding the role of predator so he could play the prey. She can't picture it, even when he's smiling; she knows the pain he can inflict. "Who won?" she asks even though she already knows the answer.

"I'm still here," he tells her, casts his eyes towards the gate. "No matter what they unleashed, I remained."

She lets him take her elbow and steer her to the exit. She wants to get out of this place. She doesn't want to feel his past.

* * *

><p>He documents everything.<p>

Wherever she goes, no matter how she looks, he's there with his Nikon clicking away.

"What are you doing?" she asks on their third day in the city, as she pushes through a crowd of Japanese tourists to meet him at the bottom of the Spanish Steps.

He holds the camera to his eye and snaps a photo so close to her face it will highlight every pore. She knows better than to argue; he'll follow up that one bad photo with ten more. "I'm taking pictures of you."

"Yeah, but why? Are you really going to look at these again?"

He lowers the camera, fiddles with the lens cap. "Maybe, maybe not. But you'll want them to keep."

"I just don't get why you care."

"You'll see Rome a thousand times before you die, but it will never be like your first time. Memories fade. Here's your proof that it happened this way."

He's no longer looking at the camera because he's looking right at her. The intensity in his gaze is unnerving, how closely he's studying her with those blue eyes, but she doesn't break the contact.

No matter the passage of time, she'll never forget this trip.

* * *

><p>They share a joke outside St. Peter's Basilica.<p>

Caroline keeps shifting from foot to foot as they wait in line, biting her lip as they creep closer to the entrance.

"What's wrong?" Klaus asks.

She glances left, glances right, then speaks at a volume she hopes only he can hear. "We're about to walk inside a church. Are you sure we're not going to burst into flames?"

He laughs, rich and full. "You can't believe everything you hear."

He keeps laughing, so close to genuine that she joins in with him.

It feels more natural than it should.

* * *

><p>He keeps drawing her, eyes hot as they caress her naked skin.<p>

When she wakes in the morning, she meets his gaze.

* * *

><p>Klaus provides everything but nourishment, and after a week she fakes an injury and compels her way into the hospital's blood bank.<p>

She takes enough blood to last them both for a month, but he isn't alone when she comes back to the hotel.

There's a slender brunette perched on his lap, two bite marks marring the long column of her throat. When he smiles, his teeth are stained with blood.

"Welcome home, love," he drawls, strokes the girl's hair back from her neck. "Hungry?"

At first, all she can do is stare. Then, she remembers: this isn't a pleasure trip. This is Tyler's life in her hands, and Klaus is still Klaus.

She flings her bag onto her bed and puts her hands on her hips. "Are you serious?"

He shrugs, sinks his fangs into the girl's jugular. "You must be starving."

The blood smells delicious and she can feel her own fangs sliding down over her bottom lip, but she pushes them back. She's not like him.

"Stop it now!" The girl's eyes are rolling back in her head and her skin is a sickly shade of pale. This isn't a pleasure trip, but Caroline also doesn't want to spend her evening disposing of bodies.

Klaus doesn't stop and his eyes slide closed as his victim's skin bleaches to pure white. Caroline zips across the room, yanks the girl away from him. He doesn't fight back, but does lick his lips and cross his arms across his chest.

Caroline hurriedly bites into her own arm, dribbles a few drops of blood into the girl's mouth. Her color starts to return after a moment or two, and Caroline looks deep into her eyes. "You were never here. Your study session ran late and you're just getting home."

The girl looks at her with blank eyes and walks, trancelike, to the door. Caroline turns to Klaus immediately after it closes. His arms are still crossed and he's sulking in his chair like a little boy.

She doesn't fall for his act this time.

"What were you thinking?" she scolds. "We can't kill people!"

"Why not?" She stares at him incredulously. "We're vampires," he reminds her. "Blood is life."

She stalks to her bed, opens her bag and tosses a blood bag at him. "If you're hungry, eat up."

He wrinkles his nose and tosses the bag aside. "I prefer mine fresh."

"Not with me." She closes her eyes, the weight of that carnival worker's death still heavy on her heart. "We might be vampires but that doesn't make us better than them."

"Of course it does."

She knows he's right. She's stronger, smarter, comes equipped with better senses. But she's not ready to flip the switch. "I…I can't do it, okay? And if you're going to be with me, you can't do it either."

His expression changes, his eyes hardening as he gets into her space. "You do remember why you're here, right?

She glares at him, Tyler's face flashing before her eyes. "How could I ever forget?"

His expression shifts again. She keeps her chin up, doesn't back down. She won't feel sorry for protecting someone she loves; she won't let him lose sight of why she's here.

"I'm tired," he says and pushes away from her, opens the door to the balcony. Cool night air filters in as he steps outside, but it doesn't dull the tension filling the room.

He's still outside when she gets in bed, the long line of his back curved over the balcony railing. She rolls to her side and closes her eyes. His guilt isn't her problem.

She tries to sleep but can't stop waiting for the scratch of charcoal over his sketchpad.

It never comes.

* * *

><p>There's a Fendi purse waiting on her bed when she gets home the next afternoon.<p>

It's ridiculously expensive and the size of her travel bag and she once spent an hour staring at it in an issue of _Vogue_.

There's a note too. It says **I'm sorry** in Klaus's strange, flowery script but it doesn't make her feel very forgiving.

Instead, she takes a steadying breath to keep the veins from flaring in her cheeks and calmly goes to the corner store to buy kerosene and matches.

She waits until she hears his keycard in the door before dropping the purse in a trashcan and lighting the match.

Her eyes match the blaze when he comes inside. "I told you once: you can't buy me off."

His eyes sag but hers keep burning bright. "I saw you admiring it the other day. I'm sorry about last night."

"When are you going to learn? It's the thought that counts, not the price tag." She shakes her head in disgust and storms onto the balcony.

She lets him clean up the mess.

* * *

><p>She books tickets to Florence the next morning.<p>

They dress and pack in silence and she leaves his ticket on his bed when she goes out to throw one last coin in the Trevi Fountain. Rome is eternal, but she wants a guarantee that she is too.

They don't talk on the train ride either, and she alternates between reading her history textbook and watching the Tuscan countryside.

An Italian spring is beautiful, but she wants that diploma and forces herself through the origins of civilization.

"Hey!" she squeals as she rereads a passage about the Punic Wars. "You lied to me."

If he's surprised that she's speaking to him, he doesn't let on. His tone, though, is annoyed. "I have done many things, Caroline, but I have never lied to you."

She shakes her head and shoves the book into his face. "I know about the cave. If you became a vampire a thousand years ago, there's no way you were alive in ancient Rome."

He laughs and leans back in his seat. His smile lights up his face and for a moment she forgets about the night before. In his long-sleeved tee and jeans he looks like a college student during a semester abroad. She likes him more this way.

"I already told you, Caroline. You can't believe everything you read."

"But your family – "

"Did you never wonder how a group of Eastern Europeans were living in Virginia half a century before colonization?"

She blushes and stares at her lap. Until Elena told her the story of Katerina Petrova, she thought Bulgaria used to be part of Yugoslavia.

"But the runes…"

"My father was partial to Old Norse."

"And Bonnie's ancestor?"

He takes her history book and opens to a map of the Roman Empire. It spans all of Europe and parts of Asia and Africa too. He traces a line from Thrace to Ghana to Constantinople. "Ayana was real but she didn't set the original curse. That came later, when my mother realized she could no longer control us."

"So why the fake history?"

He shrugs. "When there's no one left to remember, who's to say what's really true?"

"But the drawings, the photos...you know what really happened."

"Memories are ours to keep, but history is what you make of it."

Before she can stop him, he's tossing her book out the window. "What are you doing?" She doesn't care that her voice is hysterical. She needs that book to pass the class.

He grasps her shoulders and turns her to face him. She glances into calm blue eyes and some of the panic eases. He's going to fix this, she knows he will. "You don't need that book. I was there. Let me be your history."

She knows she should protest. After all, he just revealed that everything she knows about him are lies. And he did try and kill a girl the other night. But she remembers the Klaus she saw in the Forum and Colosseum, the Klaus who didn't hold back about the man he was and the world he created.

She tells herself she'd rather watch the scenery than bury her nose in a book. She pretends it's anything but the light in his eyes when he tells her about the lives he's lived.

* * *

><p>Caroline likes Florence more than Rome.<p>

It's less ancient, but it still feels old and proud. There's history here, even if it's a different kind.

They take a walking tour on their first morning and visit the Uffizi in the afternoon. It's sprawling and enormous and Klaus uses it as an excuse to tell her about the Renaissance.

He hated the Medicis, but loves the art they patronized. They stop for a moment beside the _Birth of Venus_ and Caroline tries to see what's so incredible about it. There's a naked blonde girl and a bunch of cherubs and it's entirely two-dimensional. She really doesn't get it.

"She's based on Rebekah," Klaus tells her.

Caroline rolls her eyes. "Yeah, right."

That warm, familiar smile curves his mouth. "Would I ever lie to you?"

Caroline takes a closer look. There's not much resemblance to Rebakah, but it is a painting of a woman with people waiting on her hand and foot. "Well, she is the center of attention. I guess I can see it."

His hand strokes her back. She returns his smile.

* * *

><p>They're finishing their tour when a woman comes over and taps Klaus on the shoulder.<p>

Caroline flinches, hopes he doesn't ruin what's been an otherwise lovely day. She relaxes when he turns to the woman with a bright smile.

"Yes?"

The woman's accent is thick, Midwestern American and she's actually wearing a fanny pack around her middle. Caroline suppresses urge to laugh; they're not called stereotypes for nothing.

"I just wanted to say, my husband and I overheard you discussing the paintings and if you're not already a teacher, you should consider a career in education. The way you talk about the art…it's like you were really there."

Klaus bites his lip to keep from laughing, but is entirely gracious while he thanks the woman and shakes hands with her husband.

They both dissolve into laughter when the couple walks away. Everything about it feels right.

* * *

><p>They don't need regular food, but they do start each day with a morning coffee.<p>

Caroline likes the ritual, watching people start their day and cities come alive.

Klaus watches her while she gulps down cup after cup.

It does little to calm her nerves.

* * *

><p>They have an early entry to the Galleria dell'Accademia and Klaus tries to hurry her though breakfast.<p>

She glares at him and takes a defiant sip of her coffee. Time ticks by and he taps his foot restlessly as she moves into her third cup.

"Enough," he finally says and grabs her wrist to drag her to the feet. "Let's go."

They start down the sidewalk but she's resistant. She remembers all those times Matt complained about poor tips at the Grille. They haven't even paid their bill.

"We need to pay."

Klaus's eyes take on a deviant light and he signals to the waitress. "Compel her," he whispers in Caroline's ear.

"Why? We can afford it."

He pulls her tighter against him so that his mouth moves against her ear. "Maybe today, but there will come a day when you'll need to lie. Practice makes perfect."

"No," she insists and twists out of his grip. She smiles at the waitress, but doesn't take her eyes off Klaus as she drops a five Euro note onto the table.

He's not wrong, but today isn't that day.

* * *

><p>When she sees <em>David<em> in all his glory, all she can say is, "Oh, my."

It would be one thing to view a giant, naked man with Elena or Bonnie, to go home and compare notes about the statute and the boys in their lives, but she's not here with one of her girlfriends.

"Impressive, isn't he?" Klaus says and she's acutely aware of his presence at her side. He's lean and muscled, not unlike the sculpture before her.

"Uh huh," she manages to say when she makes the mistake of turning to answer the question.

There's a knowing smile curving his lips.

It dares her to see how he compares.

* * *

><p>She raids another hospital before they depart for Cinque Terre.<p>

Klaus even offers to help.

He grimaces the entire time but downs his bag without protest.

* * *

><p>She loves Venice more than Rome and Florence combined.<p>

It's crumbling and smells funky and might fall into the sea at any moment, but it's different than any place she's ever seen before.

They spend the first day wandering the streets, crossing canals and getting lost in back alleys.

They don't talk much, but every time their eyes meet, she sees a smile there.

* * *

><p>They end the day with a gondola ride through the Grand Canal.<p>

There's only one seat, backed by a giant red heart. It's the last place Caroline wants to sit, but she holds her head high as the gondolier helps her into the boat and she settles against Klaus's chest.

He's firm and muscled but fits perfectly against her back.

It's way less awkward than it should be.

* * *

><p>He takes her to Murano on their third day. St. Mark's Basilica and the surrounding square are lovely, but she's getting tired of churches and museums.<p>

The Museo Vetrario is another museum, but the glass is a nice change of scenery. Klaus hovers behind as she roams open-mouthed through the museum. She's sure he's seen these pieces a hundred times before, but he never complains.

Her favorite exhibit is a giant red bowl woven through with strands of gold. She's always been partial to the color, but she knows it's more than that: the crimson glass is deep and rich, like the blood that defines her existence.

She shivers and turns away, moves onto a display of blue and green vases.

She likes the way they remind her of life.

* * *

><p>They're heading back to the ferry when Klaus comes up behind her and rests his hands on her waist.<p>

"Stop for a moment," he tells her and she halts in her tracks. The setting sun is gorgeous and she no longer has breath but she remembers what it felt like, to see something so stunning that it catches in her throat.

"Wow," she says, thinks it's just about the sunset but then something cold and hard settles into the hollows of her collarbone.

She reaches behind and undoes the clasp, holds up a strand of red beads streaked with gold.

"I saw you admiring the bowl," Klaus says shyly, stares at his feet rather than meet her eyes. "The color will look beautiful against your skin."

The beads aren't expensive, but that's not what matters. She presses her thumb to Klaus's jaw, angles his face so he has to look into her eyes. "I love them."

She leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek, pulls back and smiles.

She's never seen him look so scared.

* * *

><p>He starts drawing her again.<p>

He shows her a sketch the night before they leave Italy. He looks the way he did on Murano, eyes cast at the floor while she studies the picture.

She's clothed, sort of, because he's drawn _The Birth of Venus_ in her likeness.

"It's wonderful," she says and his smile warms her from head to toe.

Her cheeks flush and she turns back to the drawing, stares at the girl rising fresh and pure from the sea.

She feels something new is starting.

* * *

><p>Writers live for feedback – please leave some if you have the time.<p> 


	3. When we feel a storm

**Title:** "Paradise Circus"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating:** PG-13

**Character/Pairing:** Caroline, Klaus

**Spoiler:** "All My Children"

**Length:** Part III of V**  
><strong>

**Summary****:** Klaus takes Caroline on a trip, but he's the one to see the world.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note: **Yay, another update! Thank you so much for everyone supporting this fic. It's really been so much fun to write and I'm glad readers are enjoying it as well. Caroline and Klaus take on Central Europe (and Scandinavia!) in this chapter. Also, the length of chapter has definitely pushed the fic into five parts. What can you do, right? Title courtesy of Massive Attack. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>Caroline calls Tyler from the road.<p>

She's been gone over a month. She needs to know that it was worth it.

It's bad timing but also the only chance she might catch him between school and baseball practice.

They're driving to Germany and she curls into the passenger seat, leaves a voicemail while the car crests over the Alps. She listens to Tyler's voice, deep and warm despite the thousands of miles separating them. He sounds the way she remembers, the way she tries to remember herself. Her eyes drift closed and something tight and hard catches in her chest.

She's missed the way he makes her feel.

"I'm safe, I miss you, I love you," she says, gets right to the point. Klaus can hear every word she's saying. She doesn't have to make the moment harder than it already is.

She slips the cell back into her purse, turns to watch the scenery as they cross the border.

Klaus doesn't say anything but his fingers gripping the steering wheel bleach white.

* * *

><p>They stop once for gas.<p>

There's a café around the corner and Caroline insists on hot chocolate.

She's not thirsty, but Klaus has been quiet since she called Tyler and she doesn't like it. He's not chatty in general, but they just went through the Alps; she at least expects a story about riding an elephant with Hannibal.

She orders two cocoas and chooses a table; he follows and sips his drink in silence.

"Are we going to talk about it?" she finally asks.

"There's nothing to discuss." His tone is flat but his lack of emotion lets her know that he's far more affected than he lets on.

"You're acting weird."

He puts down his mug and his eyes flare, burn like the Klaus she first met. "Forgive me if I'm not interested in the details of your relationship."

She turns her attention to her lap, unsure how to break down the walls he's put up. "Would you have killed him if I hadn't gotten there?"

"Yes."

He's never lied to her before. She has no reason to believe he'd start now.

* * *

><p>They spend the night in Munich and Klaus takes her to a beer hall.<p>

He downs liter after liter of pilsener while she sips a hefeweizen. She doesn't know anyone but Klaus and he won't speak to her.

His jaw is set in a tight line but his eyes are alert. They keep landing on a waitress with enormous boobs and Caroline drains her glass, searches for courage. If the serving girl is to live the night, it's up to her.

"I'm sorry," she says and when he doesn't respond, she reaches out to lay her hand over his. He flinches, but doesn't push her away.

"For what? You are spoken for after all."

She sighs, remembers that night: the cool air on her skin, the moonlight in her hair, the simplicity in his words…_I fancy you_…so much has happened since. "I love Tyler," she says, doesn't look away from the anger that heats the blue of his eyes. "That hasn't changed, but it doesn't mean I'm not enjoying myself. This trip…there will never be another one like it."

He clears his throat and looks away, catches his bottom lip between his teeth like he's contemplating something important. "I'm sorry."

Her brow wrinkles in confusion. She wasn't expecting a confession. "For what?"

"Trying to kill you, and then trying to kill you again."

"You're kidding, right?" She tries to pull her hand away, put distance between them. She's ready to accept her fate, but forgiveness isn't on the table.

His fingers tighten around hers. "You did try to kill me too."

"I told you, I didn't know what they had planned!"

He watches her calmly. "You knew."

She sighs, stares at their intertwined fingers. They're similar, long and slender and so, so pale, but his hands are still stronger than hers. She thinks about all the pain those hands have inflicted, how much hers could cause if she let them. "I'm sorry," she whispers, waits a beat. "If it makes you feel better, I'm glad it didn't work."

He smiles, brushes this thumb over the back of her hand. She doesn't try to pull away again.

* * *

><p>He lets her drive to Berlin.<p>

Caroline's only driven automatic before and he spends a morning teaching her manual.

It's hard. Even with excellent coordination, she finds it difficult to get the clutch and accelerator just right.

"I can't do it," she whines as the car sputters to a stop in the middle of the parking lot.

Klaus laughs, rests his hand over hers on the stick shift. "Like this," he says, his voice deep and warm in her ear.

She focuses on the task at hand, lets him guide her through the motions. It's not perfect, but she manages to get the car across the lot without stalling.

She turns to him, laughing. "We did it!"

She likes the way the words sound. She's no longer in this alone.

* * *

><p>They navigate the Autobahn with the windows open.<p>

Caroline's hair will be a nasty tangle when they get to the hotel, but she doesn't care.

She loves the wind on her face, the scenery flashing by in a blur. There are no speed limits on this highway and she guns the engine to the max. She's stronger and faster than any other creature on the planet. It feels good to actually live it.

Beside her, Klaus keeps his eyes closed.

No matter how hard she tries, he knows that they can't race through life.

* * *

><p>Berlin takes care of the Cold War.<p>

It rains the first day, but Klaus chooses a boutique hotel overlooking the Alexanderplatz and spends the morning telling stories about the black market diamond business he ran while East Germany still stood.

Caroline listens half-heartedly, trying to concentrate on the translated version of Faust she's reading for her AP Lit class. She has to write a paper comparing it to The Picture of Dorian Gray, but she mostly wants the rain to let up so they can start exploring the city. This is the most idle she's been in weeks and she's completely stir crazy.

"Ugh, this book is soooooo boring," she gripes, tosses her Kindle across the bed.

Klaus looks up from the _Berliner Morgenpost_. "I offered to show you around, but you didn't want to get your hair wet."

Caroline rolls her eyes. "I was joking. I'm not afraid of a little rain. It's just that everything is better when the sun is shining."

He puts down the paper. "I did say that you're full of light."

She doesn't know how to respond when he says things like that so she reaches for her Kindle, holds it high to hide the flush in her cheeks.

The bed shifts and he lies down beside her, winds an arm around her shoulders and lets her rest her head on his chest. "Faustus is great when you read it the right way."

So he reads the play in the original German while she follows along with the English translation. His voice is smooth and even, deep and almost comforting.

It makes a pact with the devil sound like a rational decision.

* * *

><p>It stops raining around noon and they venture out to Checkpoint Charlie.<p>

They stop by what's left of the Berlin Wall before and Caroline finds it hard to imagine a line of concrete cutting a city in half.

"It was more a symbol of the divide," Klaus says, traces a line of graffiti. "A stroke of luck deciding which side you were on."

Caroline hurries them along to the museum.

She knows something about choosing sides.

* * *

><p>The museum itself is awesome. If the Wall was nebulous, the museum and its stories are tangible.<p>

"Elijah and I would smuggle East Berliners across," Klaus tells her as they examine a car with a hollow backseat.

"Taking advantage of desperate people," Caroline says, doesn't bother to hide the disgust in her voice. Just when she forgets what he is, he brings it back to the forefront.

He doesn't tell her that she's jumping to conclusions or babble a list of excuses. He shrugs, studies a neighboring display. "Nothing in life comes for free."

He steps away, heads towards the next exhibit.

Caroline feels the full weight of the price she's paid.

* * *

><p>Klaus takes pictures, but Caroline collects mementos.<p>

She has a postcard from Rome, a miniature Statue of David from Florence, a keychain from Venice.

She buys a pen in the gift shop, waits patiently in line while a mother negotiates t-shirt sizes with her daughters. Klaus is off looking at books and she's grateful for the reprieve. Most of the afternoon has been tense and awkward.

There's a video playing in the background, David Hasselhoff singing in a light-up jacket on the Berlin Wall. Caroline isn't particularly interested but there's also not much else to do but watch.

The performance ends and the interviews start and Caroline bursts into hysterical laughter.

Klaus is on camera, complete with a mullet and leather pants. He's saying something in German, but Caroline can't get past the hair. And the pants. But mostly the hair.

She laughs while she buys the pen and laughs while she drops it in her purse and keeps laughing when she goes to collect Klaus.

"Business in the front, party in the back, huh?"

He's confused until he follows her line of vision to the tv screen and his cheeks flame pink. "It was the 80's," he defends himself.

She can't keep a giggle from escaping. "There is no excuse for those pants."

He smiles tentatively. "We all make mistakes."

She giggles again, the kind that erupts from her belly and makes her sides hurt.

Klaus laughs too, his smile so wide she's surprised his face hasn't split in two.

She can't stay mad at him when he looks so human.

* * *

><p>They cap off their day with a trip to the Brandenburg Gate right as the sun is setting. It's gorgeous, the pale sandstone glowing red and orange and gold in the fading light. Caroline has seen beautiful sunsets before, but not like this.<p>

They stroll down Unter den Linden first, stop in little shops and pose for photos in front of the Kronprinzenpalais. It's early spring and the lime trees are just budding; the air is crisp and clean and smells like new life.

Caroline closes her eyes as they step into Pariser Platz, resists the urge to twirl through the square.

She's only experienced the turn of seasons in Virginia. It even smells better halfway across the world.

* * *

><p>"I want to show you something," Klaus says and gently grasps her elbow, starts walking them away from the Gate.<p>

It's near dark and the world is painted in cool shades of blue and purple, but there's just enough light for one last stop.

"What is this?" Caroline asks, squints through the semi-darkness to take in field of stones. It's unsettling, this place, and she shivers, pulls her jacket tighter even though she's not cold.

Klaus nudges her and she reads the plaque, realizes she's standing at the "Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe," all six million of them. She remembers their 9th grade trip to the Holocaust Museum, the pile of shoes, the wall of photos, the people whose only crime was being different.

She shivers again, leans into his side. "Why did you bring me here?" she whispers. They've made it past the earlier tension; she doesn't want to end their day this way.

He lets her rest against him, wraps his arm around her shoulders and presses his mouth to her temple. "You should know, we're not the only monsters to walk the earth." His lips are soft against her skin, but his words dig deep.

She's not ready to accept what she is but she's starting to understand.

* * *

><p>It's through unspoken agreement that they decide to go out that night.<p>

Caroline slips into a tight dress and heels, wears lipstick for the first time since she left Mystic Falls.

Klaus zips her dress while she finishes her makeup, lets his fingers trail up her back as he tugs the zipper into place. She meets his eyes in the mirror, watches the movement of his hands on her skin while he fastens the string of red beads around her neck.

He leans in and brushes his mouth over her throat. "You are magnificent."

She can't help but believe every word he says.

* * *

><p>The club is hot and sweaty, a mass of tightly packed bodies moving in time to a persistent electronic beat.<p>

Caroline's more of a pop music girl, but there's little chance of finding Katy Perry or Taylor Swift here. Instead she closes her eyes, lets her hips move in time with Klaus's, feels the hard planes of his chest against her back.

It's more than his body wrapped around hers. It's the heartbeats she can hear over the bass, the rhythmic pulse of blood moving through veins and arteries.

She opens her eyes and turns in Klaus's arms, hides her changing face in his damp t-shirt, lets her fangs dig into her chin. He gently rubs her back while she fights to stay in control.

His heart is silent beneath her ear but he's firm and solid, constant . She raises her head and knows she looks like herself.

* * *

><p>Klaus comes back from the bathroom with a smear of blood on his collar.<p>

Caroline chooses not to hold it against him.

No one's perfect.

* * *

><p>They take in more sights, tour Museum Island and the Kulturforum, see the Philharmoniker play and walk circles through Tiergarten.<p>

They talk a lot but don't fight.

* * *

><p>Tyler calls, leaves her a voicemail.<p>

He tells her he loves her, he misses her, that she's the bravest girl he's ever met and how it only makes him love her more.

He begs her to come home, not to give up her life for him.

She listens on the balcony this time but it's not enough.

She stares at the hard line of Klaus's back, the tense set of his shoulders.

She wonders if it's even a sacrifice anymore.

* * *

><p>Mauer Park is Caroline's favorite part of the city and they browse flea markets, alternately admiring and laughing over old maps and jade elephants and tarnished spoons.<p>

At one stand, she picks out a cool vintage purse and insists Klaus buy a tweed fedora.

A sweet British woman agrees to snap a photo and they press together, Klaus's hand low on Caroline's back.

She doesn't shrug him away.

* * *

><p>Their last night in the city, there's a beautiful green, silk dress lying on her bed. There's matching shoes and a tiny beaded bag and a strand of black pearls that's nearly half her height.<p>

"Klaus?" she asks, knocks on the bathroom door. His head pops out in a cloud of steam, his hair sticking up all over the place. She smiles and runs her fingers through it, smoothes it into place. "What's going on?"

He smiles in way that used to terrify her but now only sets her (non) pulse pounding. "It's a surprise."

She follows his instructions, puts on the dress and the shoes and lets a stylist do her makeup and curl her hair like a flapper's. Klaus appears in a dated tuxedo, his hair neatly slicked back from his face.

"Is it some kind of German Halloween?" she asks

He simply holds out his hand. "Do you trust me?"

She hesitates, just long enough for his eyes to harden, but not so long that he slips his hand into his pocket. She's wearing gloves but she can feel the strength in his grip, a hint of warmth seeping through the silk.

"Let's go," she says, ignores the way his jaw tightens.

She's not ready to give him any more than tonight.

* * *

><p>It's a jazz club, dark and smoky and filled with people staring at them like they're crazy. Which makes sense when everyone else is wearing jeans and leather jackets, hip dresses and ankle boots, and they're dressed like they just escaped from the 1920s.<p>

She sips a sloe gin fizz and tries to concentrate on the music, but it's hard when people are whispering about her in a language she doesn't understand.

"Why are we dressed like this?" she whispers, the feather in her hair shaking as she leans in towards Klaus.

"You wanted to understand history. Sometimes you have to live it.

"People are staring at us."

He takes her hand, leads her to a tiny dance floor before the stage. "Let's give them a real show."

They start with a basic swing and then a foxtrot. By the time they've moved to the Charleston, several of the women have kicked off their shoes and are dancing alongside them in earnest. The band joins in too and when the final set closes, Caroline collapses in Klaus's arms.

She's sweaty and exhausted and her feet hurt, but she can't remember the last time she's felt so alive.

* * *

><p>In Stockholm, she discovers there are such things as vampire clubs.<p>

"Like Fangtasia?" Images of Eric Northman pop into her mind: tall, blonde, muscular…they are in Scandinavia after all.

Klaus's forehead wrinkles in that adorable way it does when he doesn't get a reference. "I thought you'd want to avoid a repeat of Berlin. No humans allowed."

She's relieved. It will be nice to let loose without worrying about killing someone. "Can I dress as Lisbeth Salander?"

His brow knots again. "I meant it when I said it won't be like Berlin," he tells her as she disappears into the bathroom.

All the confusion disappears from his face when he takes in the combat boots and skimpy tank, the gallon of kohl outlining her eyes.

"How do I look?" she asks, pulls on a leather bomber jacket and grabs her bag.

"I always liked the late 70's," he tells her as they head for the elevator.

She wishes she could have been there with him.

* * *

><p>The club is like an industrial version of Fangtasia, lots of leather and vinyl and vampires. Vampires everywhere. They're drinking glasses of blood or comparing fangs, fighting in a ring in the back corner.<p>

She mostly stays close to Klaus and sips her blood. It's cool being amongst her own kind, but nerve-wracking too. She's only been a vampire for a year; so many of these people are older and stronger, can have her staked before she has time to react.

She slides closer to Klaus; she likes knowing he can keep her safe.

"I'll be right back," he says, nods his head towards the bar. She hands him her empty glass and assesses the room.

She's dressed more butch than many of the other female occupants, but she doesn't mind. It makes her stand out and she's tired of always being the trampy one.

Other vampires – male vampires – take notice and a tall, muscular, blonde man appears at her side.

"Hallå," he says, sidles up beside her to press his shoulder to hers.

"Hi."

"I've never seen you around here before," he says in English and she resists the urge to roll her eyes. She's in a new place, seeing new things. She should talk to the people too, despite how cheesy their pickup lines are.

"I'm here on vacation."

"American, yes?" He angles in front of her so she has to look at him. He's handsome, like an Ikea model and she wonders how she can sneak a photo to send to Bonnie.

"Yes," Klaus says before she can respond. "And spoken for."

He's behind her and she can't see his face, but she can imagine the look in his eyes because her new friend holds up his hands in surrender. "Enjoy your stay," he says and walks away.

"What are you doing?" Caroline hisses as soon as he's gone. "You can't talk to people like that."

Klaus glares at her. "You shouldn't be talking to him."

"Why? Because I'm _spoken _for?"

"Well – "

She steps closer, so close her breasts push against his chest. There's not much separating them, just a few layers of thin cotton, but she's too angry to think much about it. "I'm not anyone's property. Not that guy's, not Tyler's, and definitely not yours."

His forehead knots again and she forces herself to ignore it. "You're here, with me."

"No," she whispers. "I'm here for Tyler."

The words are out before she can stop them, before she can explain that she doesn't really mean them, that it's a reflex to cut deep when she's angry, but Klaus is gone before she can even open her mouth.

After an hour, she realizes he's not coming back. She thinks about how many people live in this city, how angry he is; she hopes there won't be more blood on her hands. She catches a taxi outside and goes back to the hotel alone, undresses in the dark and creeps into bed.

She waits for him.

He doesn't come home.

* * *

><p>The next morning, there's no drained girl lying in their bathtub or bloodstained shirts strewn around the room, but there is a note telling her to dress warm and meet him at Wasahamnen at 9:00 am sharp.<p>

It's only a little after nine when she shows up at the marina and follows his instructions to the end of a pier.

He's waiting for her, leaning against a post while a small boat bobs in the water behind him.

"Hi," she says shyly as she approaches, finds it hard to meet his eyes. She doesn't want to say anything worse than she did the night before.

"Are you ready?" he asks, holds out a hand to help her onboard. She hopes this will heal them, that he's not planning on ripping out her heart and tossing her body into the sea.

They've come so far, seen so much, and she knows she's in the wrong.

She doesn't hesitate to slip her fingers into his.

* * *

><p>For most of the morning, he barks orders and expects her to instantly memorize the long list of nautical terms he calls out.<p>

The rope keeps making her hands bleed and the sun stings her eyes and the salt water is going to ruin her hair, but she keeps going. She's not a quitter; there is nothing she won't see through.

She's had enough when the jib smacks her in the head for the second time in less than an hour.

"Enough!" she yells, drops the sheet so she can rest her hands on her hips. "If you're going to kill me, do it already."

Klaus glances up from tying the rope, completely surprised. "You think I'm going to kill you?"

"You're not?"

"No!"

"Then why are we out here, miles from civilization?" She sucks in air, forces herself to calm down. "Why won't you talk to me?"

He takes her wrist, gently tugs her down beside him. "I heard what you said last night."

"Klaus…"

"We can talk about what you said later, but first I want to address what I did. You're right. I don't control you. You're here by choice and your reasons are your own. When I was a boy, I always knew I was different. My father…they do say actions speak louder than words. I thought I could sail away and make my own start."

"You never did."

His voice is very quiet. "Henrik died…you know what happened next." He keeps looking out over the water. "Besides, the Black Sea isn't nearly as large as we thought." He reaches up and unhooks the sheet, curls her fingers around it. "Where to?"

She takes his hand and winds her fingers through his, keeps the sheet caught between them. "I'd rather learn with you."

He spends most of the afternoon drawing her while she lays out on deck, contorts her body in the poses he wants.

She thinks she understands what it means to sail off into the sunset.

* * *

><p>Tyler calls, but Klaus wants to show her Gamla Stan.<p>

She runs her finger across the screen and presses ignore.

She makes her choice.

* * *

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	4. Please teach me gently how to breathe

**Title:** "Paradise Circus"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating:** PG-13

**Character/Pairing:** Caroline, Klaus

**Spoiler:** "All My Children"

**Length:** Part IV_a_ of V

**Summary****:** Klaus takes Caroline on a trip, but he's the one to see the world.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note: **More fic, another story extension. Yes, we are now up to six parts because I hit page nine and Caroline and Klaus were still in the same city. Although really, this chapter and the one that follow are being linked together as two halves of part IV because they share the same thematic structure. It just had to split it in two. Also, updates will be coming out slower because I'm back at work full time; no worries though, I will finish. Title courtesy of Massive Attack. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>They stay with Klaus's friends in Copenhagen.<p>

He tells her on the flight and she makes him repeat his sentence because it comes as such a surprise.

"You have friends?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"It's just…" He looks at her like she's killed his favorite hybrid. "I've only seen you compel or sire people into hanging out with you."

He keeps looking at her, his eyes drooping a bit. "Is it really so hard to believe?"

She remembers the last time he said those words, believed in her when she didn't believe in herself. She thinks of the man he's been these past weeks.

"I guess not," she says, turns back to her book. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his mouth quirks into a faint smile.

No one goes through any life alone.

* * *

><p>Even when Jens and Agathe combine their ages, they're barely half as old as Klaus.<p>

"We met during the Thirty Years War," Jens tells her over red wine at a bar in Vesterbro. "I was young. Gold, god, glory… Klaus showed me the way."

"You turned him?" Caroline asks. She's only seen his army of hybrids; she never thought he'd changed someone by request.

"Of course," Klaus says, raises his glass in mock salute; Jens returns the gesture. "My final war, but the greatest of spoils."

"Tired of following orders, right?"

Caroline turns to Klaus. "I thought you said you were sick of death."

Agathe watches intently over her wine and Jens leans back in his seat. "I was," Klaus says, fingers curling into a fist.

The truth seeps through Caroline's travel-soaked brain, the facts she's hidden from herself. "You kill people now," she says softly. "Anyone who gets in your way, doesn't do what you want…you kill them without a second thought."

Their audience is silent, eyes flickering back and forth between them as the show goes on. Klaus sighs heavily, runs a hand over his eyes. "I grew tired of killing for other people. Armies, war, plunder…it was never my choice."

"And now?"

He looks into her eyes. "I'm here with you."

Agathe raises her glass and the rest of the table follows suit, deep, dark red soaking up the light. "To friends, old and new."

They clink glasses and sip their wine, fall into easy conversation about lives past and present.

Caroline leans into Klaus's side, enjoys the weight of his arm draped over her shoulders while she laughs at Agathe's story about crazy hats in the Middle Ages.

If she has to live forever, she wants it to be filled with people like these.

* * *

><p>Agathe and Jens have a lovely apartment but only two bedrooms.<p>

Caroline stares at the bed for a long time while Klaus says goodnight to their hosts, tries to figure out how they'll both fit. She contemplates putting a row of pillows between them, but it seems ridiculous when he's been sketching her naked for the past six weeks.

"I can sleep on the floor if you'd like," Klaus says and Caroline whirls around, holding her pajamas to cover her naked breasts. He's leaning against the doorjamb, watching her get ready for bed.

She shakes her head, forces herself to ignore the look in his eyes while she tugs on her tank top. He's seen her naked countless times but this is different. She's not posing while he sits across the room; they're about to get into a bed together.

It would be easy to take him up on his offer, but doesn't seem fair. She pulls the comforter back, climbs inside. "There's room for both of us," she insists, pats the space beside her.

He closes the door and shrugs off his shirt, bends over to rummage through his bag. Caroline peeks at him over the edge of her Kindle, watches muscles ripple under smooth skin.

It's going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>She wakes up in his arms.<p>

She's not the least bit surprised.

He's always taken more than she's been ready to give.

* * *

><p>They spend the day getting stupid in Christiania.<p>

The weed is good and Søren's couch is really comfortable.

Caroline lounges against Klaus's chest while he trades war stories with Jens and Søren. He's spent weeks telling her his history, but it's different when other people fill in the missing pieces. She learns he was a general and a king, Odin reincarnated. Søren is actually a thousand years old and reminisces about their quest to find the perfect Yule log during the Dark Ages. Jens chimes in, talks about the time Klaus turned an entire village to save them from an outbreak of plague.

Caroline listens, soaks up Klaus's past. She's never felt closer to him.

* * *

><p>One night, they eat dinner in.<p>

The doorbell rings about eight and two girls appear in the entrance way, a blonde and a brunette, both beautiful and very human.

"Hej!" the blonde calls out, drops her coat on the coach. "Hope everyone's hungry!"

The dark-haired girl looks nervous but follows her friend's lead. They come back from the kitchen with wine glasses; the blonde also holds a sharp knife.

"I'm Freja," she says nods her head at her friend. "This is Margarethe." The brunette smiles politely but her hands are knotted together so tightly that it has to be painful.

Agathe is arranging cheese and smoked fish on a platter and Jens ushers everyone into the living room.

Klaus settles on the couch and pulls her down beside him. "Watch and learn."

Caroline watches, rapt, as Freja slices her arm and expertly fills two glasses. She smiles at her friend, squeezes her hand in encouragement, and quickly performs the same ritual on Margarethe.

"You do this for a living?" Caroline asks in astonishment as Jens bites into his wrist and holds it briefly over each girl's mouth; their wounds close instantly.

Freja shrugs. "I'm putting myself through law school and Margarethe's behind on her rent. What's a little blood if it means we get what we need?"

Agathe brings the platter to the coffee table and affectionately squeezes Freja's shoulder. "She's been a godsend."

There's enough food for everyone, but it's clearly a vampires only party. Jens walks the girls to the door, slips an envelope into Freja's hand. "We'll be in touch," he says and closes the door behind her.

They clink glasses when he settles beside Agathe and sip their blood. Or the others do. Caroline mostly stares at her wine glass and wonders how they can all be so civilized.

"Something wrong?" Agathe asks, pops slices of smoked salmon and havarti into her mouth. "You're not eating."

All eyes turn to her and Caroline is very embarrassed, feels out of place, realizes just how young and inexperienced she is. "You don't kill people?" is all she can think to say.

Jens and Agathe exchange a knowing look. "This is our home," Agathe says. "We can't change what we are, but it's a lot easier when we're not worried about hiding bodies. That life ended a long time ago."

Caroline feels the dark cloud she's brought over their evening as everyone tries their hardest not to look at Klaus. His list of victims is too long to remember.

Caroline smiles, sips her blood, tells them how much she likes The Figurines. They follow her lead, turn the conversation away from blood and death and endless existence.

Jens brings out the ice wine and their evening turns light-hearted again.

* * *

><p>She asks Klaus about it later when they're getting ready for bed. She really likes Jens and Agathe, the cozy life they've built here.<p>

"Could you live like them?" Caroline asks through a mouth full of toothpaste.

Klaus reaches over and wipes a smear of toothpaste from her lip. "Live how?"

"Like Jens and Agathe." She pauses and spits, tries to appropriately phrase her next question. "I mean, not kill people?"

He turns on the faucet, rinses his brush. "I already do." He points to the empty blood bag in the trashcan.

"But you never did before."

"I lived that way because it's what I wanted then." He leans in, brushes back the hair slipping from her ponytail. "But now…there's nothing more that I want."

When he says things like that, she doesn't know what he means, if it's a line he's throwing her way or what's truly in his heart. "You don't have to change for me," she says softly. They're not in a relationship. He doesn't owe her this much.

"Sometimes change is good." He drops his hands, sticks them into the pockets of his pajama bottoms. "You're not going to be the same person forever, Caroline."

He turns and slips into their bed, throws back the comforter so she can climb in beside him.

Never mind forever – she's not even the same girl who left Mystic Falls.

* * *

><p>Jens has to work, but Agathe takes them to Langelinie to see The Little Mermaid.<p>

Caroline actually squeals with excitement as she skips across the stones; before _Titanic_, she was hoping Eric would give her a tiara and take her away.

It's corny, she knows it, but she can't help but hum under her breath as she runs her fingers over the statue's tangled hair.

She glances back at Klaus, talking with Agathe at the far end of the square. She loves the whole new world he's given her.

* * *

><p>Elena calls.<p>

Caroline contemplates ignoring the call, but it's _Elena_ and if she doesn't pick up there's a good chance she'll wake up tomorrow morning to find Damon waiting for her.

She runs her finger across the screen, presses the phone to her ear. "Hey."

"Are you okay?" It's Elena's and Bonnie's voices in unison and it's too much for her heightened hearing; she pulls the phone away from her ear and waits a beat.

"I'm fine," she assures them. Pauses again while she figures out what to say next. No matter what she tells them, they'll never understand.

"We were so worried about you," Elena says. "No word for a month, and then it took us forever to pry the info out of Tyler."

"Where are you?" It's Bonnie this time.

She looks around the square. Klaus is still talking to Agathe, but he's watching her. He's a vampire, but an Original and a hybrid too; he can probably hear every word she's saying.

"Copenhagen. I just saw the real life little mermaid!" She can't keep the enthusiasm out of her voice and she can imagine Bonnie and Elena exchanging worried glances.

"You're having a good time?" Elena asks.

"I'm…" She doesn't know how to explain this, the relief that Tyler's okay, the peace she feels with Klaus. "It's not nearly as bad as I thought. I've seen so many things, been to so many places…" She trails off, lets her true meaning go unsaid: she's not ready to come home yet.

"We miss you," Elena says and Bonnie agrees. "You're sure you're okay?"

She glances back at Klaus and Agathe, hears her friends' love through the phone line.

She's not sure which one is her real life.

* * *

><p>Agathe asks her about Berlin while they're walking through the Tivoli Gardens.<p>

Caroline grew up believing Disneyworld was fairytales come to life, but Tivoli is like falling into the Black Forest for real. Klaus laughs at her dumbstruck expression and buys her a balloon.

She's too old for balloons and she's tempted to let it fly away, but they're practically on the Atlantic and there are dolphins that could suffer and frankly, if she feels like a five-year-old, she wants her damn balloon.

Klaus takes her hand, slips it into the crook of his elbow, and leads her through the park. There are roller coasters and other rides, but Caroline's not interested. There's already enough excitement in her life.

"Did you like Berlin, Caroline?" Agathe asks.

Caroline twists the balloon string between her fingers, falls a few weeks into the past. "It's cool, I guess. Good shopping and art. Stay away from the clubs."

Agathe nods. "Did it feel like a place where you could build a life?"

Caroline stops, detangles herself from Klaus. "What are you asking me?"

"People have been asking Jens questions at work. We've been here ten years and can only make excuses about how we look for so long." She pauses, blinks back tears. "It's time to move on."

Caroline looks at Klaus helplessly. She has no idea how to help. He steps up to the plate, starts regaling Agathe with all the wonderful things to do in Berlin.

Caroline follows after them. "Screw the dolphins," she says under her breath, lets the balloon go.

What's the point in living forever if there's no place to call home?

* * *

><p>Caroline never wants to leave Copenhagen.<p>

It's not the city per say, although she does want to return. It's Agathe and Jens, red wine and Søren's couch, the little world she's carved out here and the people that inhabit it.

On the morning they leave, Agatha begins packing up the good china and Jens takes down the art.

All the best things must come to an end.

They don't go to another city.

"I want to be alone," she says on the way to the airport.

Klaus picks up his phone, books two tickets to Basel.

It's not him she doesn't want to be around.

* * *

><p>He takes her to a cabin in the woods.<p>

It's been in his family for hundreds of years. "Since the War of Spanish Succession," he says. "The world was different. Even my family needed to get away every now and then."

"It's perfect," Caroline assures him, takes in the dark, rich earth and blue, blue sky and deep green trees.

It's nothing like his mansion in Mystic Falls or the luxury hotels he favors. It's small and rustic; the only touches of modernity are the bathroom and satellite tv.

Caroline kicks off her shoes in the front yard, sighs as the cool dirt sinks between her toes. It's one thing that will last forever.

She looks at Klaus, standing on the porch with their bags.

She tilts her face to the sun.

* * *

><p>Klaus shows her to a bedroom. "This was Rebekah's room," he says. "I hope it's all right."<p>

Caroline stands on the threshold, glances around the room. It's sweet and cheerful, with red toile bedding and a bay window. There's even a canopied bed, fit for a princess, the kind she wanted as a little girl.

Except it's single, solitary. She's used to falling asleep with Klaus's solid weight against her back, waking up with their legs tangled together. She doesn't want to dream alone.

"Caroline?"

"I want to sleep with you."

She hears the slight gasp, feels his fingers press at her waist. "You're sure?"

She turns to face him, answers the question in his eyes. "No funny business," she says. "But I like waking up with you."

He leans in and around her, closes the door. "It's the best part of my day."

She hides her smile in his shoulder. It's the best part of her day too.

* * *

><p>They spend the first day watching Audrey Hepburn movies on the flatscreen.<p>

Caroline finds an old woven afghan in the linen closet and snuggles against Klaus's chest. He wraps one arm around her, plays with her hair with the other.

"How would I look in that?" she asks as Audrey prances across the screen in black cigarette pants and a sleek sweater.

His hand stills. "I like you best in nothing at all."

The room goes silent for a moment, the buzz of the tv painfully loud, but Klaus grins, to ease the tension, and she smiles in return. He's much more fun when he's not all gloom and doom.

She presses herself closer, rests her head right over his heart.

* * *

><p>She gets hungry on the second day.<p>

They're out of blood bags and the thought of heading into the village for a snack makes her heart hurt. She's not that person, not again.

She puts it off for as long as she can, but she's pacing around the living room by mid-afternoon and Klaus looks up from his drawing to see what's wrong.

"I'm hungry," she tells him. Feels her stomach twist and fold. "Starving, actually."

A light shines in his eyes and he puts down the sketchpad. "I can fix that."

She shakes her head. "No!" He watches her, doesn't look ashamed of his assumption. She reminds herself that he's survived this way for thousands of years; old habits die hard. "I mean, isn't there another way?"

He zips out of the room and appears moments later with a pair of sneakers in each hand. "I hope you you're ready to run."

She's curious, but still follows his lead, kicks off her slouchy socks and slips into the sneakers. They walk towards the woods ringing the backyard, hesitate for a moment at the tree line. Klaus holds up a hand, beckons her to his side. "Do you hear that?"

It's far away, but she can hear it, the faint pitter patter of a heartbeat. She can smell it too, the raw, heady scent of flesh and blood and fur.

He takes her hand. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>She's fast, but he's faster, werewolf and vampire melding together into a perfect killing machine.<p>

He takes down the buck but lets her drink first, holds its flailing limbs as she drains its life.

She sits back and watches him, the smooth workings of his throat, the strength in his hands. It's hard looking away from all that power.

"How do you feel?" he asks as they lay down on the mossy ground, watch the light slant through the canopy.

She takes his hand, blood-smeared like her own. "All better."

She likes a man who'll take care of her.

* * *

><p>She gets bored on the third day.<p>

They run out of movies and cheese and chocolate and there's no wi-fi so she can't download more books for her Kindle.

She spends an hour sliding across the foyer wearing one of Klaus's button-down shirts and her Raybans.

Then another hour trying on the Rebekah's old ball gowns from the 18th Century.

And another hour flipping channels on the big screen.

"I'm soooooooo bored," she says, flings herself over the back of the couch. Klaus holds out his sketchpad and charcoal pencil. "No thanks." He turns back his drawing and she stares at the ceiling, counts knots in the wooden rafters.

He sighs, puts down the sketchpad. "Come on."

She rolls over, drags a pillow over her head. "You know how they say, be careful what you wish for? I know I said I wanted a break, but…there's not even a blow dryer here."

"Come on."

She follows him outside to a little shed on the outskirts of the property. "I thought you said you weren't going to kill me and leave my body in the woods."

He shakes his head, opens the lock, reaches inside and pulls out two bows and a quiver of arrows. "When I was young, there was no television, no phone, no internet." He locks the shed. "Kol and I would practice our shooting to hurry the passage of time."

"When you were human," she says softly. All the stories he's told, this is the only one from before he turned.

"Time doesn't move any faster now but archery still helps." He starts for the clearing and she hurries to keep up.

She always feels one step behind.

* * *

><p>They spend the morning teaching her to shoot.<p>

Klaus stands behind her, arms wrapped around her, his jaw brushing her cheek. He points to an oak tree, tells her to aim. "Just let go," he says, his voice low and deep in her ear.

She fixates on the spot he chose, lets him guide her fingers to pull back the string and let the arrow soar.

The arrow misses its mark, but they try again and again until they get it right.

* * *

><p>They hunt in the afternoon.<p>

Neither of them are hungry, but Klaus insists that she hit a moving target.

"But I'd be killing something," she whispers as she follows him into the woods, keeps her bow at her side and treads lightly. She's too blonde and too bubbly, but she thinks it's a passable Katniss Everdeen.

"You drained a buck dry yesterday," her Gale reminds her.

"That was to survive. This is for fun."

"We'll donate the meat." He stops in his tracks, silently holds up a hand and points to their left. There's a doe and two fawns, a massive buck standing guard. Without a word he wraps himself around her, keeps her fingers steady on the bow. "Now," he breathes.

Together, they release the arrow and it hits its target, the buck crying out as the mother and babies scatter. Caroline looks away while Klaus slits its throat, mumbles a prayer under his breath.

She asks him about it when they're walking back to the cabin, the buck slung over his shoulders, a trail of blood dripping to the grass. "You were praying." It's not her intention, but the words come out as an accusation. She doesn't believe in god, not when she knows the things he's allowed to be created.

He glances at her and she steps aside, gives the dead deer a wide berth. "Force of habit," he says. "I don't hunt very often, but when I do…it's nice to fall back on traditions."

Caroline is silent for the rest of the walk home. She remembers Homecoming floats, Duke from Duke's parties, the Lockwood swim hole. She remembers a year of Sweet Sixteens, holding hands with Elena and Bonnie on the first day of high school.

She realizes they'll start college together, have babies together, maybe even die together but she'll always be watching from the sidelines.

She blinks back tears; not all traditions last.

* * *

><p>Klaus strips off his shirt to butcher the buck.<p>

He's wearing a pair of old, frayed jeans that hang loosely from his hips and his feet are bare. He makes quick work of skinning the deer, his sharp knife effortlessly separating layers of flesh and hide, sinew and bone.

She watches the muscles in his arms bunch, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Even covered in blood, the intensity in his eyes makes her skin warm. It's not every day that she witnesses a man in his rawest form.

"You did this before you turned?" His forearms flex, all lean muscle, and she stares, transfixed. She's not sure she cares when he learned to do this so long as she can keep watching.

"If we wanted to eat, someone had to do the dirty work." He slits the deer's belly and pulls out its guts. Caroline swallows hard, because she might be a vampire and survive on blood, but entrails are still disgusting. He laughs, wipes bloody hands on a towel. "Go inside, relax. I'll finish up here."

She doesn't hesitate, practically sprints across the grass and heads straight for the bathroom, leaves a trail of clothes across the hardwood floor.

She chooses a lavender and mint bubble bath and puts her hair up, turns The Xx up on her iPod and slips into the tub. She can't feel heat or cold anymore, but the muscle memory lingers and she sighs as the hot water warms her from the outside in. She props a towel behind her head and closes her eyes, sinks lower until her chin is covered with bubbles.

It's sublime, the slow burn of the music and the heat sinking into her bones. She never wants to move again. She's so lost in thought that she misses Klaus's arrival.

"How's the water?" he asks and her eyes snap open.

He's standing in front of her completely naked; she doesn't even try to keep her eyes from widening.

She's seen glimpses before, but never all of him, tall and muscled and so, so confident. She remembers that day in Florence, the challenge in his eyes; David has nothing on the man standing before her.

"What are you doing?" she squeaks, turns her eyes to the ceiling.

He nudges her shin with his toes. "There's only one bathroom and it's currently occupied." The water parts as he sinks into the tub at the opposite end. "Fortunately, it's large enough to share."

She finally looks at him and laughs. He's right, there's plenty of room, and he looks ridiculous with bubbles dripping down the side of his face. She leans over and brushes them away. "I guess I can be a big girl today."

He leans back and takes one of her feet into his hands. She's a little embarrassed – there hasn't been a time or place for a pedicure this trip – but her toenails are neatly trimmed. He starts kneading her arch before she can react, and then all she can do is fall back and close her eyes and moan.

"That good, huh?"

"Hmmn…" He moves to the other foot and then starts up her ankle, fingers expertly working the muscle. "Where did you learn to do this?"

"I have many passions," he reminds her, rests her foot on one hard thigh while he massages her other leg.

"So you say. This whole time…there's so much you know."

He gently lowers her foot and slides through the water until his knees brush hers. "Tell me something about you."

"Like what?"

"We never did finish our conversation."

Her cheeks flush and it's not from the heat. She remembers that night, the betrayal in his eyes as he clutched at his heart. That night set this adventure in motion, led them to this place. _"Your hopes," he'd said. "Your dreams, everything you want in life." _ So many things she's lost, but so many more that could be hers.

"When I was little, I wanted to be a veterinarian."

"Now we're getting somewhere."

She stretches so her calves bracket his hips. His limbs stiffen, but he doesn't push her away. "You asked me if I like horses. I used to ride. I had this pony, Angelica, like on _Rugrats_?" He doesn't get the reference, but also doesn't interrupt. "She's the only one who didn't leave me."

"So you wanted to take care of her."

She nods. "We sold her when I was twelve."

"Tell me more." He slides away, reclines against his side of the tub. "I want to know everything about you."

"Only if you tell me about you."

He looks at her funny. "I've spent months talking about my past."

She shakes her head. "I want to know about before."

"How much time do you have?"

"Whatever you want." She's telling the absolute truth, but there's more to her words. She's naked, in a tub, with Klaus. He's barely even touched her even though she knows he wants to. She's just offered him an opening, no matter how unintentional, and if he asks she doesn't think she can say no.

"Come here," he says, his voice low and warm, and she slides through the water to curl into his side. "Once upon a time there was a boy named Niklaus…" she laughs but doesn't comment, listens with her head resting in the crook of his neck.

She wants to know everything about him.

* * *

><p>The next morning, he makes her take the venison to the corner shop in the village.<p>

"Can't you go?" she whines. He's been teaching her to draw and she's working on a still life of her David statue.

"I can't."

"Old girlfriend?" she teases, adds a bit more shading to David's abs.

"I was here twenty years ago. They'll notice that I haven't aged a day since."

The pencil shakes in her fingers and she drops it. She doesn't want to think about those things, how everyone she loves will die, how one day soon, she won't be able to go home. "Do I have to?"

His eyes are sad, but firm. "Yes."

She glares at him as she slips on her shoes, but stuffs the newspaper wrapped meat in a bag and makes the trek. She avoids small talk with the shopkeeper, who's naturally curious about the young American appearing out of nowhere with thirty pounds of fresh meat. She doesn't complain though when Caroline offers a trade and stuffs her bag with enough chocolate and cheese and red wine to last a few months.

Once she's home, she's not coming back.

* * *

><p>Klaus is waiting for her on the porch but stands as she zips up the steps, drops her bag and wraps herself in his arms.<p>

She doesn't want to leave this place, doesn't want to leave him.

* * *

><p>They start their own traditions: a walk in the garden before sunrise, cheese at noon, whiskey at sundown, deep, dark chocolate for dessert.<p>

They watch movies and work on their art and Klaus teaches her French so she can read Rebekah's romance novels.

They spend a lot of time in the bath.

They mostly fill their days with stories about each other.

* * *

><p>They fly into the Keukenhof for a day to catch the Parade of Flowers.<p>

Caroline gasps at the fields of tulips, so many different colors shimmering in the spring sun.

They're not poppies, but she still feels like Dorothy easing her way down the yellowbrick road.

If this is a dream, she doesn't want to wake up.

* * *

><p>Writers live for feedback – please leave some if you have the time.<p> 


	5. Nobody loves me it's true

**Title:** "Paradise Circus"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating:** PG-13

**Character/Pairing:** Caroline, Klaus

**Spoiler:** "All My Children"

**Length:** Part IV_b_ of V

**Summary****:** Klaus takes Caroline on a trip, but he's the one to see the world.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note: **So I'm just going to say uncle and call it a day. This fic just keeps getting longer and longer and who knows how long it will end up being. My current plan is this: shorter chapters, but quicker updates. So this chapter is shorter than usual, but continues on the same theme. Expect another post sometime this week. Thanks again for the wonderful support. I can't believe how much people are enjoying this fic! Chapter title courtesy of Portishead, because I listened to "Dummy" in serious repeat the last time I was in Eastern Europe. Title courtesy of Massive Attack. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>Caroline wants to stay in Switzerland forever, but Klaus has other plans.<p>

They've been here three weeks, longer than their stay in any other place, and one morning he tells her it's time go.

"Pack your bags," he says. He's resting his weight on his elbow, grinning down at her. He looks so young in his thin t-shirt, his hair mussed from sleep, and when he smiles she sees only the flash of smooth, flat teeth. It's to forget what he is at this time of day.

She pulls the quilt over her head. "No, I like it too much here."

"Caroliiiiiiine," he drawls, reaches under the covers to run his fingers over her stomach. It tickles and she can't control the giggle that escapes. The tickling increases as he rolls on top of her, her thighs cradling his. She's struggling beneath him and knows she looks like she's having an epileptic fit, but she makes no move to push him away. She likes the feel of him pressing her into the mattress, the easy way his body fits against hers.

"Can we stay, please?" she asks when she finally stops laughing.

He reaches down, brushes tangled hair back from her brow. Their mouths are so close that if either of them still had breath, she'd feel his fanning out over her cheeks. He doesn't kiss her though, just looks deep into her eyes and rolls away. "I promised you the world," he reminds her. "We can't very well stay in one place."

She knows she's not going to win this battle. This is his trip; she's only along for the ride. "Okay," she relents, pushes back the blankets to start packing.

She can't help but hang her head a bit; she's really not ready to go back into the hustle and bustle of another city, face more strangers. He snags her wrist as she heads for the closet, pulls her tight against him so her back presses against his chest and his mouth moves against her ear. "The cabin isn't going anywhere. You can visit whenever you'd like."

She relaxes against him, resists the urge to turn her head. It's getting hard to think when he's this close. "Promise?" she asks. She doesn't want to come back to this place without him.

"Promise," he says, lips moving against her temple.

She smiles as he gives her what she wants.

* * *

><p>They head east and land in Budapest after a long night of traveling. Caroline wonders how airports used to seem so exotic and exciting; they're now a necessary annoyance.<p>

It's late when their taxi deposits them at the hotel, but there's no hiding the Danube's beauty. The moonlight glitters on the water and lights from the castle shine brightly in the clear night.

She stands on their balcony and watches the river, the smooth flow of the current, the endless rush of water. It might be the only thing older than an Original.

Klaus comes outside but rather than stand beside her, he stands behind her, loosely gripping the railing. She should feel caught, trapped, snared in this narrow space between wrought iron and the hard planes of his chest, but she only feels safe, protected.

He hasn't let her down yet.

He hums softly in her ear, _Danube so blue, so bright and blue…_

"That's pretty."

"If I were a musician I'd write you a song this night."

Caroline should laugh. She _wants _to laugh. He's saying ridiculous things like out of a Katherine Heigl movie, but she can't laugh. She remembers the way her chest tightened when she took in his drawing, the horse and her face and so much beauty. She remembers hating Klaus, but enjoying the way he saw her, like no one else in her life could see her. His words let her know that nothing has changed.

She doesn't laugh.

That feeling is twice as strong tonight.

* * *

><p>Budapest is the exact right place to transition back to urban life.<p>

Their hotel has a first class spa and they spend the day alternating between the Corinthia's therapeutic pools and steam baths in the morning, pampering in the afternoon. Caroline finally gets a manicure and pedicure and a facial before a set of couples' massages before bed.

Caroline barely notices Klaus at first because she's too overwhelmed by the feel of hot stones working out the kinks in her muscles. There was a lot of archery practice over those three weeks; her muscles welcome the break.

She slips at one point and finds herself staring at him as his masseuse digs deep into the tight muscles of his back. She watches Eva's hands fly, pressing and pushing, the heat of the stones soothing his muscles. His eyes are closed but his mouth rounds into a perfect oval as Eva works out a particularly tough knot.

Caroline hurriedly turns away and resists the urge to look back. She can't ignore the part of her that wishes those were her hands on his skin.

* * *

><p>They tour Buda the next morning. It feels strange to sling her bag over her shoulder after so many weeks of wearing little more than slouchy socks and sweatpants, but Caroline gamely picks up her guide book and follows Klaus into the heart of the old city.<p>

She's always wanted to be a princess and Castle Hill fits the bill.

Buda Castle is all ornate ballrooms and grand dining halls, drafty passages and beautiful bedrooms. She wanders about with her eyes open wide, imagining herself walking the halls with diamonds and pearls in her hair.

"I went to a party here once," Klaus says when the pause in the Great Ballroom. He leans against a column and stares into the vast room, memories of the past washing over his face.

"Of course you did," Caroline says and comes to stand beside him. All she sees is an empty space, but tries to imagine the world he sees: silk dresses, champagne, chaperones. There's so much of his life that she doesn't understand.

"Empress Elisabeth was quite fond of me."

Caroline grasps at straws, tries to remember any female monarch except Elizabeth I. "Was she related to Catherine the Great?" she finally asks.

Klaus laughs, rich and full, and all the nostalgia disappears from his face. "I so enjoy you," he says.

"Because I got my history wrong?"

"Because you're so eager to learn."

Caroline has never thought of herself as much of an intellectual, a good student perhaps, but her passions were always limited to things like cheerleading and glitter guns. She doesn't recognize a cerebral part of herself.

"Well, you need to understand the past for the present to make sense, right?"

"It's fortunate that you have a good teacher."

He takes her hand, tangles his fingers with hers, and another jolt sings through her chest. They touch each other all the time, but this is different. She hugs her friends; she doesn't hold hands with anyone but the boys she loves.

He looks at her hopefully but doesn't move; he's waiting for her to push him away.

She knows she should let go. He's Klaus and she's Caroline and Tyler is waiting back home, but they're in Budapest and Mystic Falls is thousands of miles away and she doesn't want to. It's really that simple.

"Where to next?" she says and his face relaxes.

Caroline keeps holding his hand as they head for Franz Joseph's apartments. She's half convinced that Sleeping Beauty might have lived in this castle, but Klaus's smile is the best thing she's seen all day.

* * *

><p>Though, the view from Fisherman's Bastion gives it a good run for its money.<p>

Klaus steers her past Matthias Church but stops at the entrance to an elaborate terrace. Caroline's eyes widen. "Are we in Disney-Budapest?"

"I told you there was great beauty to see," Klaus says and tugs her along. "Let me show you."

They walk along the white stones, stopping every now and then to look at a fancy church or an elaborate suspension bridge, the Parliament building that looks like yet another castle. It's hard to remember that this place is real, that castles on a hill aren't figments of the Brothers Grimm's imaginations.

She glances at Klaus a few feet ahead, wearing yet another nostalgic expression.

She frowns, tries to focus on the scenery around her. Not for the first time, she wishes she's always been by his side.

* * *

><p>They take on Pest in the afternoon and it's like being in a completely different city. The streets are wide and sweeping, like if the Paris of those Audrey Hepburn movies was recreated in the east.<p>

Especially when they walk down Andrássy Avenue towards Hero Square. The street is broad and tree-lined, with gorgeous buildings Klaus tells her are neo-renaissance. She tucks it away for a later day; she likes learning from him.

It's bright and light and she thinks she could twirl for minutes on end and never careen into anything else. She's not sure which she likes better, the close confines of the castle or the airy openness of the plaza.

She walks along the maze of white tiles, watches Klaus snap photos of the different statues. Eventually, he remembers her. "Say cheese," he says and she stops, puts her hands on her hips and smiles broadly for his camera.

Later, she browses his photos while he's in the shower. She flips quickly through the sights they took in today, but she pauses on the photo from Hero Square.

She's standing with her back to the Millennium Memorial, twin colonnades shimmering in the background. Caroline studies the statues, the men and women dueling for meaning before the full span of Hungarian history. She studies herself, the unfamiliar clothes and the hair in desperate need of cut, but it's the look on her face that surprises her the most. She's not wearing any makeup and she's squinting at the camera, but her smile reaches all the way to her eyes.

She reaches back into the farthest reaches of her memory, tries to remember what life was like before her father left, when her mother wasn't married to her job, when Elena was only a friend and never a competitor.

She sighs and clicks off the camera, lets go of the past in favor of the present.

She wants to smile like this forever.

* * *

><p>They run into an old girlfriend at dinner.<p>

The neighborhood is seedy, but Klaus swears that Jozsefvaros has the best goulash in the city and that she can't visit Budapest without trying authentic Hungarian cuisine.

Neither of them need the food, but he makes it interesting anyway, encouraging her to savor the paprika, roll the potato around on her tongue. She has nothing else to compare it to, but she's willing to concede the point: the meal is divine.

After dinner he orders Unicum and she tries hard not to giggle over the name. "It's like an orgasm for everyone," she laughs, puts down her glass before she chokes on her drink.

"All for one, one for all," he jokes and smiles over the rim of his glass. She's still laughing when his eyes change and his expression hardens; her heightened hearing catches the click of heels before the woman is halfway across the room. She's beautiful, like a tow-headed Heidi Klum, but just as tall and lanky and gorgeous.

"Niki," she purrs, a slight accent flavoring her speech. "It's been a long time."

Caroline watches as Klaus puts down his glass and slowly rises to his feet. "Magda," is all he says.

The woman smiles knowingly and flips her hair over her shoulder. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

Caroline doesn't like how Magda emphasizes the word, "friend," but still stands up and holds out a hand. "I'm Caroline."

Magda holds back, not forever, but just long enough to make it clear that she'd rather die than shake Caroline's hand. "Magdalena," she finally says. "Only my special friends call my Magda."

Caroline resists the urge to roll her eyes and smiles tightly. "Well, let's see how the evening goes. Maybe we'll hit it off."

Magdalena doesn't even respond as she slides into a seat opposite Klaus and signals for the waiter. "Now, Niki. Why don't you tell me where you've been all these years."

"Niki?"

Klaus's cheeks flame a bit and he shoves his hands into his lap. "It was years ago – "

"The 15th Century to be exact," Magdalena chimes in. She stares at Caroline. "How old are you?"

Caroline does her best to tilt her chin up high. "Eighteen."

"Niki," Magdalena laughs and swats him gently on the arm. "So young!"

This time, Caroline's the one to drop her hands under the table and she twists them together so she doesn't slam her fist into Magdalena's perfect face.

"So how did you two meet?" she asks, desperate to change the subject. She already feels too young, too plain. She needs the focus off her.

Klaus looks pained, but Magdalena grins. "Niki saved me," she says.

"Magda," he sighs.

"Don't be shy," she insists. "My village was going to burn me at the stake but Niki cut me down, saved me from the flames." Her eyes fill with a burning light. "Then he turned me and gave me the world."

Caroline feels something very much like tears pricking the back of her eyes. Klaus is over two thousand years old – to how many women has he made the same pledge?

"I thought Der Hexenhamme was a vile piece of trash," Klaus says but Magdalena only shakes her head, laughs like he's told a hilarious joke.

"Don't be shy, Niki. Haven't you told Caroline about our adventures together? We had the entire empire at our feet. Jens, Agathe…we had good times, didn't we?"

"It was lifetimes ago," Klaus says, his voice low and emotionless. Caroline feels increasingly numb herself. She thinks back to those weeks in Copenhagen, the peace and security of the family she'd created there. She can't believe Klaus had had that same life with someone else.

"That's why I'm here you know. The Hapsburgs might be gone, but their cities still hold memories." She leans forward and her smile only widens. "You remember, right? The hunt, the prey, the thrill of the chase. Madame Mao had nothing on us." She turns to Caroline. "You know the Gang of Four, right?" Caroline tries hard but can't quite keep the blank look off her face. "Oh, sweetheart," Magdalena chides. "You should know your history." Caroline whips her eyes to Klaus but he says nothing, keeps his gaze fixated on a different girl that he saved.

Caroline has finally had enough and pushes to her feet. "I know that most people think you're named after a whore." She turns to Klaus, glares at him like they're back in Mystic Falls. "I'm leaving."

She's gone before he can say anything, zips out the door in spite of who might see her, the truths she could reveal.

She makes it back to the hotel before she collapses on the bed – their bed – and cries. She remembers this morning, the way her chest tightened when he smiled at her.

Her heart hurts for entirely different reasons.

* * *

><p>It takes Klaus over an hour to get home and she spends most of it crying.<p>

She knows why she's here. She remembers the agony in Tyler's eyes, the bargain she struck to save his life. This isn't a pleasure trip, no matter how much she's enjoyed it.

She tries to picture Tyler's face but all she can see is the cabin and Klaus and the Tati film that's making him laugh. She's Caroline Forbes – she doubts there will ever be a time when she's not been played for the fool.

She thinks about calling Bonnie or Elena, crying over stupid boys with her girlfriends like she's still in Mystic Falls, but pushes the thought aside when she realizes there's no way to explain this heartbreak. _"Yeah, so, Klaus tried to kill Tyler and I made a deal with him to save my boyfriend's life and went to Europe with a monster. Except I realized he's not so bad and kind of sweet and when I'm with him there's no part of myself that I don't like."_

She hiccups as another tear slips down her cheek. She's the worst kind of idiot.

* * *

><p>He finds her in the bathroom.<p>

Her eyes are so swollen that she can barely see and she's holding a cold washcloth to them, trying to ease the puffiness.

"I'm sorry," he says and she turns, yanks down the washcloth to find him leaning against the doorjamb. "I should have gotten you out of there the moment she came to our table."

"But you didn't."

He starts towards her, but her glare keeps him pinned in the doorframe. "I was caught off-guard. It's no excuse, but she was a part of my life for three hundred years. It's easy to get caught up in the past." He glances at her but she keeps up the glare. "Can I tell you about it?

Caroline puts down the washcloth and folds her arms over her chest. "Start talking."

"Magda told the truth about how we met. I did save her, although she left out the part about massacring her village afterwards." He smiles. "Best meal I had in years."

Caroline ignores the attempt at dragging her out of her feelings. "Why didn't you kill her too?"

"She was beautiful and I wanted her." She flinches, but he doesn't back down. She asked for honesty and there's nothing he won't give her. "We terrorized Europe for the next three hundred years. Then came Jens and finally Agathe."

"Like a family," Caroline sneers, wishes she could keep the jealousy and anger out of her voice.

"For a while, yes. Then Agathe wanted more and Jens wanted her. Magda and I parted soon after."

"What, she left you for a Chaos Demon?"

Klaus clearly has no idea what she's talking about but still presses forward. "Actually, because of a Petrova Doppelganger." He looks at her pointedly. "No one enjoys coming in second to an obsession."

Caroline feels a slight twinge of solidarity with Magdalena. She can relate to boys losing their minds over girls wearing Elena's face. "So she left you."

"And you know the rest of the story." He takes a step forward and she holds out a hand to stop him. "I've learned my lesson, Caroline. Five hundred years and what do I have to show for it?"

"You're a hybrid," she reminds him. "You're probably the most powerful person on earth."

"But you're angry with me. And right now that's the only thing that matters." He keeps walking towards her and she does nothing to stop him.

"Why are you here?" she whispers, looks at her feet so she doesn't have to see the pity in his eyes.

His hands rest on her hips and tug so she stumbles across the tiled floor, falls into his chest. "Where else would I be?"

"Magdalena – "

"They're called exes for a reason."

"I just don't understand what you see in me."

He tips her chin so she has to look at him. He's blurry through the haze of tears, but she can see enough to know there's no pity in his eyes. "Do you remember what I told you at the ball?"

Her cheeks flame a bit; she feels silly replaying those words. "Beautiful, strong, full of light. I remember."

"I've spent centuries in darkness, Caroline. It's time enough. With you…I'm seeing so many things for the first time."

She doesn't understand. She's a small town girl from rural Virginia; he's seen things she's only read about in books. Magdalena is beautiful, worldly, all the things she only wishes she could be. "But I'm just me."

His fingers stroke up the curve of her cheek. "That's all I want you to be." He pauses, eyes suddenly pained. "You can go home, if you'd like. I won't stop you and there won't be any consequences."

The enormity of her choice is clear: Klaus is letting Tyler go; he's setting her free. She could go home and restart her life, spend her summer sunning at the swim hole and making out with Tyler. She could laugh with Elena and rebuild her friendship with Bonnie and share the occasional dinner with her mom before college starts. She could do so many things, but all she wants is here in this room.

She takes his hand, slides her fingers between his and presses it over her heart. "Where to next?"

He flattens his palm and takes her free hand with his, presses it to the same spot on his chest. "Whatever you want."

She's young and still learning, understanding the whole wide world, but she knows one thing: whatever the future holds, she wants to spend it with him.

* * *

><p>Writers live for feedback – please leave some if you have the time.<p> 


	6. We were you before you even existed

**Title:** "Paradise Circus"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating:** PG-13

**Character/Pairing:** Caroline, Klaus

**Spoiler:** "All My Children"

**Length:** Part IV_c _of VI

**Summary****:** Klaus takes Caroline on a trip, but he's the one to see the world.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note: **More fic, more apologies for the delay in updates. At this point, it looks like Part IV is going to be five sub-sections. This part just won't end! Title courtesy of Massive Attack. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>Klaus makes up in spades for Magdalena.<p>

There are no designer jewels or couture clothes, although he does compel a curator into letting her try on the Holy Crown of Hungary. Instead there's a moonlit cruise on the Danube and a gastro tour of Central Market Hall, but her favorite is a walk around Margaret Island right at sunset.

It's different than Venice or Berlin or any sunset she's seen before. Klaus stands at the water's edge, the sun bringing out the gold in his hair, painting his skin with a warm glow. In the fading light he looks young and beautiful, like he's a normal man and not an Original over two thousand years old.

"It's so gorgeous," she whispers, rests her head on his shoulder. He slips an arm around her waist and pulls her close.

"Rebekah and I had a party here."

"Oh yeah?"

"The monarchy was fighting with the Hapsburgs." She can't see his face but she knows he's smiling. "No one was paying attention to the younger set."

"Tell me about it."

His hand slips from her waist. "It wasn't your kind of party."

She pauses, absorbs the meaning in his words: murder, mayhem, massacre. Even if it's not a part of his present, there's no denying how it shaped his past. She takes his hand, puts it back in place. "Tell me about it."

"We were starving. There had just been an outbreak of cholera and it decimated the countryside. We came here where the pickings were ripe."

"Well, it would have been post-Industrial Revolution. Most of the population lived in the cities."

He laughs, gives her waist a squeeze. "Look who knows her history."

She sends a mental "fuck you" to Magdalena and laughs with him. "So why here? Why not Berlin or Prague?"

He takes his free hand and points at a sturdy family of blonde tourists taking photos. "Germans, they're hearty." He points to a pair of skinny dark-haired girls eating ice cream. "Italians are a mixed bag." He rolls his eyes at a group of college students drinking on the riverbank. "Americans...McDonald's has ruined the world."

"What does that have to do with your party?"

Klaus keeps his eyes fixed on the Americans. "It's harder to understand now, but back then your diet determined your worth. Rebekah invited every noble family in the city. They had the meat, the fresh vegetables…it was a feast to remember."

Caroline digests what he's saying. She's only fed from blood bags, sterile, filtered food that's more about nourishment and less about enjoyment. She never knew there was more to it. "You can taste the difference?" she asks.

He turns, pulls her to him. "Oh, yes. Perhaps one day, you'll understand."

She shakes her head. "It's not for me."

"Never say never," he whispers against her hair.

She curls against his chest, watches the final rays of light sink into the Danube. She's not ready to open that door.

* * *

><p>They run out of blood bags by week's end.<p>

Caroline tries to hold out, but she almost loses it during a private tour of Parliament. The rooms are cavernous and nearly empty and she can hear every thumping pulse, every raspy breath bang through the room. It hurts her ears and makes her eyes sting and it takes every lesson Stefan ever taught her to keep from throwing a tween from Minnesota against a column and draining her dry. Klaus holds her hand, rubs his thumb over its back but it's not enough to stop her from twitching like a tweaking meth addict.

She buys a cup of coffee in the museum café, finds a quiet table and wills her hands to stop shaking long enough to get the caffeine into her system. A chair scrapes across the floor and she winces, even as Klaus pushes a metal water bottle across the table.

"Drink."

She stares at the bottle for a long time, tries to get her coffee mug to her lips but it only rattles against the saucer. "No."

"You need to take care of yourself."

She tries hard not to cry, even as she can feel the veins pressing against her cheeks. "I don't kill people," she insists.

He smiles and unscrews the lid. "No one died in procuring this meal." He glances around the room. People are staring at her. "If you don't, there's only so much I can do."

There really is no choice so she sighs heavily and tips the bottle to her lips. The blood is rich and smooth, flavored slightly with something citrus. Half the bottle is gone before she remembers where she is, where it came from, but it's too late.

It feels good all the way down.

* * *

><p>It happens again the next morning.<p>

Caroline still hasn't had time for a hospital visit and she wakes to a teacup of blood on the bedside table.

"Klaus…" she starts but he only smiles and raises his own cup.

"Good morning," he says and opens the paper.

She tries to resist but it smells too good, a whiff of cinnamon this time, and she tells herself she's only going to take one sip.

The cup is empty when she slips into Klaus's lap to catch up on the morning news.

* * *

><p>Caroline raids a clinic on the way out of town.<p>

When they pull into Poland, the blood bags are still untouched.

* * *

><p>She promises herself that things will be different in Warsaw.<p>

They're not.

Klaus checks into the hotel; she can't stop staring at the pulse thrumming in the concierge's throat.

* * *

><p>It goes to hell within the week.<p>

They wander down the Royal Route, backtrack to Stare Miasto and the Barbican, tour St. John's Cathedral and nibble on obwarzanki in the Market Square.

Each sight is more lovely than the next, all cobblestone streeets and baroque architecture. Caroline is particularly excited when she can recognize the style on her own.

"I think that deserves high marks," Klaus says as she correctly identifies the gothic-structure of a former burgher house. He looks impressed and Caroline feels something soft and warm settle in her chest. She likes showing him how much he's taught her.

"I had a good teacher," Caroline responds, pushes her sunglasses further up her nose and peers up at ancient city walls closing in around them. She takes a step closer to Klaus; the barriers might have been invisible, but Mystic Falls was just as much a cage.

They wander through the rest of the square and Klaus points out different buildings, tells her what they were like when there were still kings of Poland, explains the slight differences in how they appear now. Over 80% of the city was destroyed during World War II, but carefully rebuilt in the 1950s. It might look old, but Caroline can't help feeling like it's trying too hard. She remembers dying in a hospital bed at the hands of a girl wearing her best friend's face.

No matter how close the similarity, there's no recreating the past.

* * *

><p>Klaus notices when they're getting ready for dinner. She's waffling between a red dress and a blue, simple cotton sundresses she bought on a whim at an H&amp;M, but it's not the wardrobe crisis that's holding her back. She doesn't like this city or the history it tries to hide.<p>

"What's wrong?" he asks as he zips up the red dress.

"Nothing," she says, slips her feet into the handcrafted wedges they bought in Rome. Klaus's hands tighten around her shoulders and she turns, has to face him. "I don't like it here," she confesses. There's no point in hiding the truth; she already knows he can see through her.

"Warsaw is a lovely city. Moreso since the war."

She shakes her head. "That's just it. Nothing about this place is real."

"It was once."

"But not anymore, and when you talk about it…it's what you remember, not what's here. I like your stories, but I need to be part of them."

His hands slide to her waist and pull her closer. "You are. The next time I'm here, all my stories will be about the time I showed a beautiful girl the world."

He lets her go and finishes dressing, but she can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. He talks about coming back to Warsaw in the future; he doesn't say it will be with her.

* * *

><p>Dinner is a quiet affair. Caroline isn't hungry and even less interested in going through the motions of eating her pierogis. She pushes them across her plate, keeps her eyes downcast so she can avoid Klaus staring at her over his vodka.<p>

"I'm sorry," he finally says, reaches across the table to rest his hand over hers. "We'll leave tomorrow. I think you'll find Krakow more to your liking."

She sighs, realizes how immature she's acting. Klaus has taken her all over Europe, paid for fancy hotels and fancier clothes, meals and museum entry fees and gondola rides and train tickets and beautiful jewelry and everything she could ever want. He deserves more than for her to sulk and pout because he inadvertently screwed up.

"No, it's fine," she says, forces a smile. "I'm sorry I've been such a pain."

He leans back in his chair, studies her face. "Everyone makes mistakes."

Caroline can feel the layers of meaning in his words, the threats he's made and the people he's hurt, the decency lurking under the surface. She feels a smile bloom; some of the change is because of her. He starts to smile as well but it quickly disappears as booted footsteps approach their table. Caroline feels her own smile fall; she can't take another confrontation with an ex.

"Hello, brother." The voice is silky and smooth and she only met him for half a minute, but Caroline recognizes Kol Mikaelson's voice immediately.

Klaus rises and throws his arms around his brother, wraps him in a tight hug. Kol hesitates a moment before accepting the embrace. Caroline watches the rigid line of his back; he's waiting for his brother to stick a dagger in it.

"It's good to see you," Klaus says, genuine happiness reflected on his face. Caroline watches, unsure how to react; the bonds of family have never been something she's understood.

Kol slips into the empty chair at his brother's side, takes a sip of Klaus's vodka. "Ms. Forbes."

"Hi, Kol," she says. He's still making her nervous, but she's not without manners. "What have you been up to?"

He stretches back in his seat. "A little bit of this, a little bit of that. There was this ballerina in Moscow…the things she could with that body..."

Caroline is unnerved by the smile that breaks out across Klaus's face. "And will never do again." She can accept what he is, but that ballerina was a person too.

"Have you enjoyed your trip?" Kol's question is perfectly reasonable, but the way he's looking at her makes her skin crawl. Klaus is the only person who can undress her with his eyes.

"It's been lovely," she says. "I thought nothing could top Rome, but Klaus keeps surprising me." She smiles at Klaus, relieved when she recognizes the way he smiles back.

Kol stares at his brother. "Nik is a master of surprises."

Klaus's jaw tightens and he signals for the waiter. "We have an early morning train," he says as he signs the bill. "We should be going."

"I was going to have a nightcap," Kol says in response but his eyes are on Caroline. "I always sleep better when I'm well fed." She freezes as she slips on her jacket, understands every word he's not saying. He's faster, stronger, better…blood bags are an acceptable alternative, but they're not the same as a beating, pounding pulse.

"Not for us," Klaus says, brushes his fingers over the small of her back.

The laughter dies in Kol's eyes. "Two thousand years," he says with disgust. "Two thousand years and you risk your existence for some girl."

Klaus growls, he actually growls, but Caroline is the one to feel the full impact of the blow. She only thought about the sacrifices she made for Klaus; she never even considered that he made any for her. She feels safe with him but she wonders if he feels the same way. It's not what she wants to do, goes against everything she's made herself stand for, but there's no other choice. This is the one thing she can't take from him. She forces a smile, straightens her back. "We'd love to."

Kol looks nothing less than triumphant. "I'll be outside."

Klaus turns to her. "You don't have to do this," he says. "Ignore Kol. Let's go home and have a bath."

She cups his face in her hands. This isn't about Kol and he needs to understand that. "Do you remember what you said to me in Rome?"

"I said many things in Rome."

"It was at breakfast. Rather than pay the bill, you told me to compel the waitress. I refused."

He pulls away, lets his annoyance show. "That was months ago."

"But you're still right. You've survived this long because you know how to play the game. "

"It's the 21st Century. There are hospitals, clinics…you can make that choice, Caroline."

"But you didn't," she says softly. "And it's made all the difference."

He leans in and cups her face in his hands, peers deeply into her eyes. "You don't have to change for me."

She smiles at him, nervous, but confident in her decision. "Sometimes change is good."

"You're sure?"

He's giving her another out, but she doesn't take it. She's almost certain that she never will. "You'll stay with me, right?"

"Every step of the way."

She pulls out of his grasp and takes his hand, clasps his fingers so tight that they should be ash, would be dust if she and him were anything but exactly what they are. "Let's go."

She's about to take the biggest risk of her life but she's never felt safer.

* * *

><p>Caroline doesn't want to admit it, but she enjoys the hunt far more than she thinks she should.<p>

They could take the easy way out, grab an unsuspecting victim behind a nightclub, but there's no fun in that. They have keen eyes and ears, superstrength and magnified healing for a reason; it's time they put those talents to good use.

Instead they take up residence at the bar in a rundown warehouse in Praga. It's not unlike the place Klaus took her to in Stockholm, except all the patrons are human.

Caroline feels like an idiot in her cotton dress and sandals, but she catches the flash of red in Klaus's eyes and remembers what she is: better, smarter, stronger. All these people are hers for the taking.

Both Mikaelsons choose brunettes, but she opts for a tall, lanky blond with those high, Slavic cheekbones she envies. He's beautiful, almost as beautiful as Klaus, and he doesn't protest much when she takes his hand and tugs him towards the ladies' room. Klaus is already there, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth as his chest heaves. His eyes are a deep crimson and the expression on his face makes her cheeks burn; she's never seen him enjoy something so thoroughly.

She's relieved to see that the girl isn't dead – shaky and pale – but her heartbeat echoes weakly through the bathroom. Klaus crouches down and looks deeply into her eyes. "Go home and kiss your mother goodnight." He dribbles a few drops of blood in her mouth and some of the color comes back to her cheeks as she slips out of the room.

Behind her, Caroline's new friend gasps loudly, struggles against her, but she's faster and stronger and has him pushed against the closed door before he can yell. "Shhh," she croons. "You're fine."

His eyes widen and then the light goes out. He smiles broadly. "I'm fine."

Klaus comes up behind her. "There are several veins to choose from, but the jugular is the least messy." He points to a spot on the boy's neck. "Bite here." He smiles when she hesitates. "I'll hold your hair."

His fingers tangle in her hair as she sinks her fangs deep, rich, warm blood filling her mouth. The veins flare in her cheeks and she wants to close her eyes, lose herself in the feel and taste of it, but Klaus whispers in her ear, "Listen to his pulse. Keep it strong and steady." He takes her hand, presses it to the column of his throat.

She pushes through the haze, focuses on the thin rhythm beating beneath her fingers. "Easy, easy," Klaus says, pulls the boy away and lets him crumple into a pile on the floor. "No need to go all the way the first time."

She smiles at the joke, bites into her wrist and lets the boy drink a few drops. "You drank too much," she whispsers in his ear, pushes open the door and watches him stumble out.

She catches her reflection in the mirror, the wild eyes and swollen lips, the trickle of blood on her chin. She looks like she did more than just eat. The bathroom is small and Klaus isn't large, but he's bigger than her. It feels like he's taking up all the space, especially when he leans in and licks the blood from her skin. "How do you feel?" he asks.

"Like I could run the world," she says, breathless even without breath, especially when his mouth trails down the column of her throat. She doesn't recognize the girl staring back at her. Her back is a little straighter and her shoulders a little stronger, but it's the look in her eyes that shakes her to the core: they're the same bright blue but they're hard and piercing, predator's eyes in a cheerleader's face.

"You did well," Klaus says as he pulls back, wipes the remaining blood from her cheek with his thumb. "Next time will be even easier."

Caroline watches him slip his thumb into his mouth and hers waters. No matter how much she wants it, this experiment needs to end here.

* * *

><p>Kol is gone when they vacate the bathroom, but there's a bottle of champagne waiting for them at the hotel.<p>

Klaus pops the cork and Caroline laughs as a stream of champagne drenches the carpet. They don't bother with glasses and drink from the bottle, passing it back and forth in easy silence. ""You passed his test," Klaus finally says and Caroline's fingers tighten around the cool glass.

"What do you mean?"

Klaus takes the bottle, leans in and presses a soft kiss to her mouth. He doesn't try for more than a faint brush of his lips over hers but her gasp makes him smile when he pulls away. "You're not afraid of what you are."

She pushes away how the light dimmed in that boy's eyes as she almost drained the life from him, the rush that flowed through her from the power it gave her. She ignores how it makes her what she hates most. She ignores everything but the feel of Klaus's mouth against hers.

Nothing scares her more than the way he makes her lose control.

* * *

><p>Writers live for feedback – please leave some if you have the time.<p> 


	7. You can't hide from what you've done

**Title:** "Paradise Circus"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating:** PG-13

**Character/Pairing:** Caroline, Klaus

**Spoiler:** "All My Children"**  
><strong>

**Length:** Part IV_d _of V**  
><strong>

**Summary****:** Klaus takes Caroline on a trip, but he's the one to see the world.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note: **Honestly, there is no excuse for my behavior. NONE. Maybe it was a hurricane that gave me the push I needed to get over that writer's block. Maybe it was discovering "Battlestar Galactica" reruns on BBC America, or repeated listenings to "Sigh No More," or this crazy, bizarre, self-published romance novel my kindle guilted me into buying. Whatever happened over the last week, something inspired me to start writing again, to finish this fic that I adore and has been so lovingly supported by so many readers, and get my act together. So I apologize, from the bottom of my heart, for such a long gap in updates. The good news is – I'm enjoying writing again. This was the trickiest chapter by far, which is probably why it took so long, and now that I'm over that hump, the rest should come more naturally. Anyway, as always, thank you so much for the continued support for this story. Title courtesy of Massive Attack. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>Caroline kills someone in Krakow.<p>

It changes everything.

* * *

><p>There's a steady thrum of pressure in her head when she wakes, a heady haze of blood and lust, and the night comes back in bits and pieces: Kol, the dare, the lightning running through her veins when she smiled into that boy's eyes and drank deep.<p>

There's more too, Klaus's lips slanting over hers and his fingers tangling in her hair, but she pushes the memory away. Last night was a mistake, a fluke; she can't let it become the norm. She runs a hand through her tangled hair, grimaces at the wrinkled cotton dress tangled around her hips. Her teeth feel chalky and there's an awful taste in her mouth. She hopes she can wash away last night's behavior the way she can clean the champagne from her skin.

Klaus isn't in the room, but there's a train ticket on the bedside table and a note telling her to be at Warszawa Centralna at noon. There's more too, a bottle of expensive bubble bath and sugar scrub, a line or two telling her to pamper herself before the grimy ride.

She crumbles the note with shaking fingers, pretends he can't see what she needs before she realizes it herself.

* * *

><p>Awkward barely describes the train ride to Krakow.<p>

Caroline leans her cheek against the cool glass of the window, closes her eyes and opens them immediately, futilely attempts to block out the images flashing through her mind.

Across the car Klaus is smirking at her because he knows what she's seeing: their mouths pressed together, hearts beating furiously in a shared rhythm. Nothing happened beyond kissing, but the implications are the same.

She's in a relationship with Tyler but her lips burn from Klaus's kiss.

* * *

><p>She skips dinner.<p>

It's not like she needs to eat, but it's a good routine, a reminder of her old life. Often, it's her favorite part of the day. She and Klaus don't always spend all their time together and meals serve as a means of sharing how they spent the hours. She also likes trying foods she's only seen on _Top Chef_ or read about in magazines. Klaus always watches with self-satisfaction because he's taught her something new without even trying.

She can't bear it tonight, being trapped at a table with him while he wears a smug grin and makes her relive a less than stellar moment. No matter how much she enjoyed it, it wasn't right.

"I'm going to bed," she tells Klaus when his fingers tighten at her waist as he tries to steer her into the dining room. She doesn't wait for a response, just jerks out of his grasp before he can stop her.

She doesn't look back, even when she feels his eyes on her every step of the way.

* * *

><p>He crawls into bed with her.<p>

There's a couch in their suite and Caroline has piled extra blankets and pillows, made a space for Klaus, a separate space. She hears the click of the door and the rustle of fabric; she tenses as footsteps bypass the living room and head straight for the bedroom.

She turns her back, focuses on the thin line of moonlight peeping in between the curtains, does everything she can to ignore the way he swallows up all the space, all the air; it takes all her self-control not to stiffen when his bare chest fits perfectly into the curve of her spine.

"Caroline, we need to talk," he whispers into her hair, blows it back from her face, locks her in place so she can't roll away.

"I have nothing to say," she insists, forces her voice into a hard, flat monotone. "We kissed and we shouldn't have."

He rolls her onto her back and rests his weight on tense forearms; even without her enhanced eyesight, she'd see the anger flashing in his eyes. "You weren't complaining last night."

It's too much: his weight pressing her into the mattress, the feel of his skin sliding over hers, the inch of space separating their mouths. She catches him by surprise and pushes, leaps from the bed as he lands against the far wall.

She takes on a defensive position, fists balled and legs splayed, even though she knows it's futile. Still, she's not willing to go down without a fight.

Klaus picks himself up, brushes drywall from his shoulder. "I'm not going to hurt you, Caroline."

She drops her fists but doesn't back down. "What do you want?"

"I released you," he reminds her. "Yet you chose to stay. Why?"

The fight goes out of her and she sinks onto the bed, hugs her knees to her chest. He's not really the one she's angry with. "You make me feel alive," she says. "I never realized how small my world was until I met you."

He sits beside her, close enough that their shoulders touch. "I knew," he says softly. "On your birthday, I knew a small town boy and small time life wouldn't be enough for you. You were dying and the world I promised is what made you live." He tilts her chin so she's looking in his eyes. The anger is gone, but she can't read the feelings there. "I won't push you but know this: eternity is a long time to run."

She takes what he gives even it's less than she wants. She swallows hard and eases her legs down beside his; there's no going back to the way things were before.

* * *

><p>She takes to wearing Tyler's bracelet as a badge of honor.<p>

They're running out of clean clothes and she finds it buried at the bottom of her bag, beneath the light-weight cardigan she stows in her purse for tours of drafty museums. It's a bit tarnished, but otherwise whole, the charms tinkling a bit as it settles in the palm of her hand. Caroline runs her finger over the heart, the football, the wolf howling at the moon. There's a pom-pom as well, a tiny map of Virginia and a Cavalier too. It's the sun and the moon that catches her eye, the bright gold complimenting the cool silver. It's her and Tyler, how they came together and fell in love, but it's more too. It's who Tyler is now; it's who made him that way.

Caroline jerks as Klaus comes out of the bathroom towel-drying his hair. The curtains are open and early morning sunlight filters in the room, capturing the gold in his hair and the chilly blue of his eyes.

She swallows hard and turns her back to clasp the bracelet around her wrist. She likes its weight, the way it presses Tyler's love to the rhythm of her pulse and beat of her heart.

It reminds her that doing the right thing always comes with a price.

* * *

><p>It's mid-afternoon when Klaus comments on the bracelet. If he noticed earlier, he kept his mouth shut, but they're taking photos of St. Florian's Cathedral when he finally has enough.<p>

Caroline had thought she was covering well: she listened to his stories of the medieval market in Stare Miasto, coronations at Wawel Cathedral and balls at Wawel Castle. She asked clarifying questions and fact checked his history in her guidebook, kept her commentary to appropriate tourism related comments. She wishes things were different. Krakow is beautiful, much more to her liking with its winding streets and narrow alleys, but the tension between them makes the city difficult to enjoy.

Especially when Klaus grabs her wrist and tugs up the sleeve of her cardigan so the metal gleams in the light.

"You chose me," he says quietly. His grip doesn't loosen, but his eyes drift to the ground. "Why are you still wearing his gift?"

Caroline jerks away, reminds Klaus that he can't get his way by putting his hands on her. It's easier than admitting she doesn't know which way is up when she's with him. "He's my boyfriend, Klaus," she reminds him. "I chose to keep traveling with you, but that doesn't mean things are over with him."

Klaus's head snaps up and his eyes blaze. He takes a step closer, then another, and then he's right in front of her, half an inch of space between them. "You have a selective memory when it comes to that relationship," he says and drops his gaze to her mouth. "Perhaps a demonstration will help clarify." He ducks his head and his hands drop to her hips and heat sears her skin but she can't bring herself to care, not when he's this close, when he's threatening to give her exactly the things she tells herself not to want.

She tilts her chin but his hands drop and he takes a step back. "I'm no one's second choice," he tells her. His eyes are heavy and he can't seem to keep them from looking away from her mouth, but he keeps to his word. "When you figure out what you want, you know where to find me."

He leaves her standing on the steps of the cathedral, watching the strong, steady line of his back as he walks off into the sunlight.

She tells herself she won't break; she knows it's only a matter of time.

* * *

><p>Caroline has one paper left, for AP Lit, an essay analyzing Raskolnikov through a Hegelian lens, and it's hard and complicated and pretty much the last thing she wants to be doing, but it's also a good distraction. She needs space, space and distance to forget Klaus's hands on her skin, to remember the warm glow of Tyler's love.<p>

She compels an aide into borrowing at laptop at the Jagiellonian University library and sets up shop. It's an easy delusion to bring to life. She wears hoodies and jeans, drinks too much coffee, and swears at the ancient copy machines. She has trouble with the Polish keyboard, but a pair of pre-med students take pity on her and help her through it. Their names are Marek and Anja and they remind her of Jens and Agathe, less in personality, and more in the way they immediately let her in.

"What are you working on?" Anja asks, digs her teeth deeper into her pen. Beside her, Marek's headphones keep him from looking up. They're taking some sort of advanced biology class that even their excellent English can't quite clarify. But Caroline thinks she can explain her paper.

"Have you read Crime and Punishment?" she asks. Anja shakes her head. "It's this book about a guy who kills people because he can. He thinks he's superman, that he's better than other people and that he's allowed to commit murder, but when he actually does it, he can't handle the guilt. I'm supposed to be analyzing his actions and finding common ground in both sides of the argument."

Anja thinks a moment, grinds deeper on her pen. "That sounds difficult. What could be right about murdering an innocent person?"

Caroline swallows hard, searches for an answer. _Instinct, weakness, just because I can…_ She remembers the carnival worker, the way it felt as she watched the life drain from his face, the warmth slip from his skin. She had killed someone but never felt more alive. Later, she'd rationalized it, found a way to live with the crime and stop punishing herself: it was the cycle of life for her kind, unavoidable but inevitable.

Anja is still watching her, waiting for an answer. She smiles weakly and makes a bad joke. "Even serial killers have mothers who love them, right?" She's not sure she completely transcended cultural boundaries, but Anja smiles in return and even laughs.

Caroline forces a laugh too, turns back to her laptop while Anja bends over her book, but the contradiction that's become her life holds her concentration hostage.

Tyler has kissed her hundreds of times but never in a way that spreads sparks from her mouth to her breasts to the tips of her fingers.

Tyler might hold her heart, but it's Klaus that makes her body sing.

* * *

><p>Caroline spends four days writing the paper, Marek and Anja taking her on like a latchkey child. They bring her coffee and extra highlighters and are patient when her fingers stumble over the unfamiliar keyboard.<p>

They invite her to lunch on the fifth day, ask politely while she's putting the finishing touches on her bibliography. "Lunch?" She sets down her red pen and rubs out a crick in her neck. They're poor students and already done so much for her. She doesn't want to inconvenience them further. "Are you sure?"

They nod in unison, but Marek does the talking. "Your paper is finished so you won't be spending more time here. We thought it would be a nice way to say goodbye."

Caroline blinks. "Goodbye?"

Marek smiles. "You said it's your last paper for school. You won't be coming around here anymore, and summer session starts up soon. We'll be busy, and you'll be home."

Caroline blinks again. That word_, home_. It was once a town and a house and friends and family, but sometime it feels like the four walls of the hotel rooms she shares with Klaus have everything she needs. She feels that way a lot; before Krakow, she felt that way all the time. She pushes her hair back from her face and Tyler's bracelet slips down her forearm and it's the jolt of reality that she needs. Marek and Anja are kind, but they could never understand the choices she's made.

The contradiction weighing on her heart has never felt so heavy.

* * *

><p>They take her to a milk bar. She wrinkles her nose because she hasn't had a glass of milk since the third grade, but Marek just laughs and makes a comment about <em>A Clockwork Orange<em> and crazy Americans that believe everything they see on tv. Klaus said something similar to her once, on the train to Florence when he promised a history far more compelling than anything she could read in a book. It throws her a bit but she forces another smile and follows them into the restaurant.

Marek's right, the way Klaus was too, and even though her Polish isn't great, she doesn't think there's any milk on the menu. It's more like a cafeteria, all glorified street food and cheap beer, and she thanks them both when they order pierogies and lagers and steer her to a corner table.

The food is good and in better company than Warsaw, she manages to enjoy it. Marek chats about med school and Anja pipes in with plans for the trip they're planning after finals, and Caroline avoids their questions and makes vague references to leaving town.

She turns the conversation to them instead, tries to solve the puzzle of two overworked students taking in a random stranger. "Why did you offer to help me?" she asks, careful to keep her tone neutral. She's curious why they singled her out, took the time to make her life easier when they have their own studies to worry about. Has she been painted as an ugly American? Brilliant scholar? Beautiful idiot?

They exchange a glance and look uncomfortable. "I…" Marek starts, then drifts off.

"What?" Caroline prompts. It's been so long since she's been anything but a cheerleader or Elena's friend or Matt's girlfriend. She needs to know how these strangers see her.

"I thought you seemed lost," Anja says, eyes going wide. It's not every day that someone says exactly what they're thinking. But the door has been opened and she presses forward. "What are you doing here?"

It's there on the tip of her tongue, the full truth about how she ended up finishing high school by correspondence course rather than feigning senioritis with Elena and Bonnie. She wants so desperately to talk about Tyler and Klaus, the piece of her heart that she gave freely and the piece that was taken from her. She wants to ask for help, to figure it out, for someone to tell her what to do. Anja and Marek are nice, but they're not one of her girlfriends or even Stefan.

She smiles instead and stares directly into Anja's eyes, then Marek's, repeats the same mantra. "I'm an exchange student from UVA finishing up my junior year. I look young for my age. You're thinking about studying abroad next year and want to pick my brain."

She breaks eye contact and leans back in her seat. Across the table, Marek blinks rapidly and begins peppering her with questions about living in a strange land, building a life so far from home. They ask her about the places she's been and the things she's seen, but she can't choose a specific country or city because they're not what have made this trip unforgettable.

She tells them the most honest truth she knows: it's not where they go, but whom they take with them that makes all the difference.

* * *

><p>It goes to hell by midafternoon.<p>

The compulsion has worked and Marek and Anja stop asking questions about her past, but they do want to know about her present. Anja is intrigued by Tyler's bracelet and asks about the charms; she's particularly interested in the sun and moon, the easy blend of gold and silver, day and night. "It's beautiful," she says. "What does it mean?"

There's no easy answer to her question. Three months ago it would have been about Tyler, but now Caroline's no longer sure. There are two boys with dueling curses that have taken up residence in her heart.

"There's someone," Caroline manages to say. "He gave me the bracelet before I left town."

"He has good taste," Anja says and looks pointedly at Marek. He rolls his eyes but kisses her cheek.

Caroline pushes down the sleeve of her cardigan, keeps the bracelet locked in place against the pulse in her wrist. It's heavier than she remembered, colder too. It doesn't give her strength. It holds her back.

* * *

><p>Caroline has been feeding on blood bags since Warsaw.<p>

She has one in her purse and excuses herself, hurries to the bathroom for a quick fix. It's her favorite, B+, but she can't bring herself to drink it.

Once, it was a way out of a life she didn't want. Once, it let her be almost normal, someone Bonnie could accept and Tyler could love. Once, she thought it was her salvation.

She stares at the bag in her hand, cold and dark, tasting of sacrifice and compromise, ashes in her mouth. She swallows hard but it's not nerves; she just doesn't want it.

She's had it from the vein, felt the thrill of drinking the real thing, and she doesn't want to go back. She ignores that it's a metaphor for the conflict in her life, how Klaus makes her feel and where she thinks her heart should lie. It felt right sinking her teeth into that boy's veins; it feels wrong denying what she is. Still, she can't make herself open the bag and go back to who she was before.

There's a knock on the door and Anja's calm voice asking if she's okay. It shakes her out of her reverie and she smoothes back her hair, pinches her cheeks before opening the door. Anya's eyes are filled with concern, but it's the pulse point jumping in the exposed skin of her neck that draws Caroline's attention.

She's not particularly hungry, but she is aware of easy access to her prey. Anja trusts her implicitly, completely, and doesn't make a sound when Caroline drags her into the bathroom and sinks her fangs into the smooth skin of Anja's throat. Anja jerks in her arms but Caroline ignores it, ignores everything except the spicy flavor of her blood and how normal it feels. This is what she is; this is _who_ she is.

It's not until Anja stops moving that Caroline realizes the enormity of what she's done. She stares in horror at her friend's body, broken and bruised, on a dirty bathroom floor.

The line has been crossed and she's chosen sides.

* * *

><p>Klaus rescues her.<p>

She crumbles to the floor beside Anja and manages to call him through the haze of tears and revulsion. The one thing she swore she'd never do…now there really is no turning back.

"Caroline." He sounds smug, because he's won the game and she's lost more than he knows. "Have you come to your senses?" With her hands shaking and her mouth unable to form words, and she can't respond. "Caroline?" he asks, his voice laced with concern. "What's wrong, love?"

It comes out in a rush of ache and regret. "I need you," she finally says and waits for a mocking reply, but his voice is only calm and steady, soothing through the pain.

"Where are you?" he asks and she manages to give him directions, keep from losing it in the ten minutes it takes him to save the day.

He stands over her in a thin henley and leather jacket, his eyes shadowed and hair unkempt; their separation hasn't been easy on him either. But she doesn't pause to process, just throws herself against his chest and holds on tight. It's not until his arms tighten around her, strong and safe, that she thinks everything might be okay. This is what he knows; he's the one to make it right.

"I messed up," she whispers, even with her face buried in his chest, her tears drenching his shirt.

"Shhh," he croons, hands stroking gently over her back, his mouth whispering reassurances in her hair. "I'll take care of it. I'll take care of you."

She believes him.

* * *

><p>Klaus takes her home.<p>

The hotel room barely registers, but it's the things it contains that matter. She spots Klaus's sketchpad on the bedside table, his camera on a spare chair, her clothes spilling from a suitcase propped by the balcony, everything that makes up her life scattered around one room.

He has an arm around her as he leads her inside, tugs off her sneakers and jacket and steers her to the bed. He strips off her clothes and slips one of his t-shirts over her head, tucks her into bed like her daddy did a lifetime ago. His shirt is soft cotton and feels good against her skin, but it's how it smells that makes her feel safe: power, strength, a hidden decency that only she gets to see. It surrounds her, fills her, lets her slip into a dreamless sleep while Klaus saves the day.

He comes home smelling of smoke but he's whole and he's hers and when he slides into bed and holds her tight, it's the only thing that matters.

* * *

><p>The next morning, it takes her a moment to register what she's done.<p>

She can hear the shower running and the low hum of the tv in the background. The story is in Polish, but she doesn't need words to recognize the burned out storefront that once housed a milk bar, the body count scrolling across the bottom of the screen.

Something hot and burning fills her, boils through her veins and into her throat and Klaus doesn't see her coming when she launches herself at him, knocks him to the floor and locks her hands around his throat. He's damp from the shower and his bare skin slides over hers, warm and wet, but she ignores the hum in her blood and tightens her grip.

"You said you'd help me," she hisses. "You weren't supposed to make it worse."

He flexes his hips for leverage, just a tiny bit, but it's enough of a distraction for him to roll her beneath him, lock her arms at her sides. "I took care of it."

"All those people…" she trails off, tears stinging her eyes. "They didn't have to die too."

Klaus sighs and gets up. He's naked and she keeps her eyes locked on his feet while he wraps the towel around his waist. He extends a hand and helps her to her feet, walks her to the bed and sits beside her. "They were witnesses, Caroline. If you want to survive, you can't let others tell your stories."

She shakes her head, won't look at him and the solution he's offering. It's enough that she killed Anja, but Marek, all those students, futures snuffed out because she made the wrong choice. "I'm a bad person," she whispers. What she's done is no better than Damon, the Klaus she met in Mystic Falls. She realizes she's been missing the point along – she wasn't a different person back then; she did a better job of lying to herself.

"No," Klaus insists, curves a finger under her chin and forces her to meet his eyes. She expects sympathy, but they're hard and determined. There's no pity there. "You're a vampire, Caroline. This is what vampires do. This is what _we_ do."

"No," she practically yells, pulls from his grip. "This is what _you_ do. I know what I'm supposed to be, but that's no who I am." She has to believe her words; she can't live her life any other way.

Klaus closes his eyes and sighs heavily. "I was there in Warsaw," he says calmly. "You liked drinking from the vein."

"That was different. Feeding didn't mean killing anyone."

He shrugs. "It will happen from time to time. You can't ignore what you are because of a random mistake."

She rolls her eyes, fingers folding tightly into the hem of his t-shirt. "You would think that," she says, throws his words back at him. "I was there in Mystic Falls. I saw how you used people, disposed of them when they stopped being useful. I'm nothing like you."

He says nothing, but she's spent enough time in his company to read his face: the taunt set of his jaw, the downward curl of his mouth, the bright burning of his eyes. She waits for him to lash out, throw an epic tantrum that will confirm all her accusations, but he disappoints her, the way she secretly hoped he would.

He just disappears into the bathroom to dress, leaves her alone in the bedroom wondering when he was the one to grow up.

* * *

><p>He gives her a wide berth for two days.<p>

She wears pajamas and forces down bagged blood, obsessively watches the news and waits for the police to pound own their door.

Klaus comes and goes with his camera in tow, explores a city that was supposed to make her happy and has only broken her instead.

At night he tells her about the places he's visited, the sights she's missing, before turning off the light and clinging to his side of the bed. He doesn't hold her and she doesn't wake up each morning in his arms.

It feels worse than destroying what was left of her humanity.

* * *

><p>On the third day, Caroline wakes to Klaus throwing her clothes into a suitcase, dumping a mound of toiletries on the bed and ordering her get ready.<p>

"We're leaving," he says through the tight clench of his jaw. "Our train leaves in an hour. If you'd like your things to come along, you'd best start packing."

"Where are we going?" she asks as he carefully stows his camera equipment. "Did someone find out?"

He puts aside the camera and zips to the bed, looms over her so she falls back on the pillows and stares up into furious blue eyes.

"You need to stop fighting your nature." His mouth is less than an inch from hers, so close it takes everything in her not to push up on her elbows and kiss him, feel the heat and burn of his body against hers. "I promised to show you the world. You don't get to choose which parts."

He pulls back, chest heaving slightly, and Caroline feels the same tension. No matter the things she's done, she can't stop wanting him.

* * *

><p>He takes her to Vienna.<p>

They arrive via train and he spends the ride telling her its history, Hapsburgs and Mozart and Anschluss competing for dominance in a city that's existed since pre-Roman times. "I liked it better then," he tells her, stares wistfully out the window. "The Celts knew their way around a salt mine. The Romans cared only for gold and glory."

"You wanted those things too," Caroline reminds him, their first train ride flitting through her mind.

He shrugs, turns from the window. "There was wealth in salt. Don't discount the simple joy in preserving food."

Caroline doesn't want to talk about food, the dietary mishap that led to this moment. "What's in Vienna?" she asks to change the subject.

Klaus faces her, his eyes gleaming wickedly. "Your future."

It brings her back to Mystic Falls, the deal she made and the bargain she struck. She'd thought her life was over then, but she was wrong: even now it's just beginning.

* * *

><p>If Caroline had to choose a European city to pull a Jens and Agathe, she'd start with Vienna. It's elegant, but whimsical, with art nouveau touches that keep it from taking itself too seriously. She falls in love instantly, immediately, especially when they begin with a tour of the imperial gardens at Schönbrun Palace. They're perfectly manicured, symmetrical and inviting, and she resists the urge to scream "Off with their heads!" She's too old for Disney movies and the sentiment isn't right, not after what she did. There are no painful silences filling up the space between herself and Klaus, but there's little joy in this trip. Not with Anja and Marek hanging over her conscience like a dark cloud.<p>

Instead, she follows him to the Orangery, breathes in the scents of citrus and spring and renewal. It helps her remember that even when things go wrong, life doesn't stop. "It's beautiful here," she tells Klaus. "It would be perfect for prom." She tries a joke, just to get him talking, but he only smiles distantly and bends to pick up a fallen lemon.

"The monarchy loved holding parties here during the winter months. Elijah came for Mozart. I came for the food." His smile widens, but there's nothing innocent about it.

"Klaus…" Caroline starts, but he tosses the lemon at her, hard, and the impact feels almost knocks the wind out of her.

"We're vampires, love. We eat people. Try to remember that."

He turns on his heel and disappears into the rear garden. She glares after him and stalks towards the doors, stares at a couple fountains and rose bushes while her anger cools. He knows how hard this has been for her; she doesn't understand why he isn't making it better.

She spends an hour in the maze but it doesn't clear her head. No matter how many times she loses her way, the road always leads back to him.

* * *

><p>They fare no better on a walk around the Ringstrasse. It's a beautiful boulevard that houses the Parliament and Town Hall, but Klaus has little interest in sight seeing.<p>

Rather, he grinds to halt before the Vienna State Opera. "Rebekah and I used to play a game here," he says and points absently at the road. "We'd throw ourselves before a carriage, watch the driver panic, wait until the last possible second before standing and brushing ourselves off and going on our way." The ghost of a smile curves his mouth. "Rebekah could usually make off with a purse as well."

Caroline glares at him. "What is your problem?" she snaps.

He shrugs, gives her shoulder a push. She falls off the curb, only inches from an oncoming car. "You have nothing to fear," he whispers in her ear as he pulls her to safety.

She shoves him away. "You pushed me into traffic!"

"And you're fine." He runs his fingers down her arm and she feels his skin through the thin cardigan. "Not even a flesh wound."

She shrugs off his touch and crosses her arms, puts up a barrier between them. "That's not the point." She knows what he's trying to tell her, even if she disagrees with how he's going about it: she'll never be human again. She can't keep thinking like one.

"You're a vampire," he reminds her and grabs her wrist to tug her down the street. His fingers lock over her pulse, the slow rhythm of blood that keeps her in perpetual undeath. "You're not like them and you never will be. Try to keep that in mind."

His grip tightens on her wrist and she stumbles after him, lets him drag her further into hell.

* * *

><p>The Magical Mystery Murder Tour continues: Belvedere Palace, the Spanish Riding School, even torte at Demel Bakery. It doesn't matter where they go, there's always a story to tell. Blood, murder, death, torture. Chambermaids and grooms and artists' models – there's no escaping the Mikaelsons' reach. Caroline soaks it up, lets it sink in. This is her future; this is the life she should be living.<p>

By the time they reach Stephansdom, she's had enough. Klaus still has his hand locked around hers and he pulls her up the steps of the cathedral, stands back as she stares up at the majestic gothic arches and romanesque details, the studded steeple climbing towards the sun. "It's beautiful," she gasps because it's the first place they've been all day that hasn't begun with Klaus reminiscing about killing someone.

He leans against a wall, crosses his arms over his chest. "Kol and I killed a man here." He points at a spot to her left. "The Minister of War died right where you're standing. It was easy to go missing during a rebellion."

And just like that, it's too much.

"I get it!" she yells, actually yells, and it feels good to let out her feelings out. A group of tourists turn to check out the commotion and Klaus grabs her arm, drags her into the shadow of an alcove.

"You know better than to draw attention to yourself."

"I get it," she says again, softer this time, but no less forceful. "This whole day, it's been about making me flip the switch. You're trying to make me like you."

Klaus takes a step towards her, so her back presses against the rough stone of the cathedral wall, and he rests his forearms on either side of her head. "You could never be like me." He's large and imposing, but she still doesn't feel trapped. Despite this day, despite what he's done, she knows there's a method to his madness.

"Then why the tales of murder and mayhem? You know I already hate myself for what I did. Why are you trying to make me feel worse?"

He doesn't drop his arms, but he leans down and rests his forehead against hers, his lips moving gently over her skin. "I wanted you to see that you're not alone. We all go a little mad sometimes. You're going to live forever, Caroline. You can't carry every mistake in your heart."

"I killed someone," she whispers. "It was different this time. She was my friend."

"I cart my family around in caskets. They've found a way to forgive me."

Caroline shakes her head. "You don't understand. I wasn't hungry. I wasn't angry with her. She was there and I could get away with it." Klaus moves back so he can look into her eyes. They're laced with understanding and it gives her the strength to admit the truth. "I wanted to be in control," Caroline whispers. "Everything else felt like it was falling apart, but I could decide if she would live or die."

"You're a vampire," Klaus says yet again. "You straddle the line between life and death. We're anomalies, but it makes us no less real."

"I don't want that kind of power!" Caroline is crying now, a big burst bubble erupting from her chest. "I want to be normal. I want cheerleading and school and blood bags."

Klaus bends his head and presses kisses to her cheeks, licks the tears from her skin. "Is that what you really want?"

His voice rumbles against her face, sneaks inside her chest and forms a hot, tight ball. "I want my life back," she says, but her voice is small and full of excuses.

Klaus sighs and pulls back, brushes his thumbs over the tear tracks on her cheeks. "I'd like to show you something." His eyes are soft and his voice is gentle, like the Klaus who taught her history and showed her art, the Klaus who held her in his arms all through the night, the Klaus that catches her when she falls.

When he takes her hand, she's ready to follow him anywhere.

* * *

><p>It ends at the Leopold Museum, standing before "Death and Life."<p>

The plaque tells Caroline that it was painted in 1910 and is one of Klimt's most seminal works, but the ensuing feelings tell her that all will be right in her world.

It's mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, children and grandparents, generations huddled together in a never ending cycle. Death hovers in the background, separate even as he's always a part of their world.

Klaus stands behind her, arms gently encircling her while she leans against his chest. "We're two halves of the same whole," he explains. "No matter how many we kill, there are always more to take their place."

"It doesn't make what I did right."

He turns her in his arms, so her breasts are pressed against his chest, his arms resting low at the small of her back. He lifts one hand and cups her face, tilts her chin so his lips brush over hers. It's a light touch, no more than butterfly kiss, but she opens her mouth to protest, he doesn't hesitate to take advantage. His mouth slants over hers and his hands tangle in her hair and against the muscles of her hip, and it's her moan that breaks the spell. He pulls back, a sheepish expression on his face, but no regret lurking in his eyes. "Just because you think something is wrong doesn't mean it's not what you want." He brushes her hair back from her face and looks deep into her eyes. There's more than just passion burning there. "Caroline, what do you want?"

His voice is soft and a bit pleading and she's tired of fighting, tired of pretending. He isn't the monster she met in Mystic Falls; she's not even the same girl she was in Warsaw. They're good and bad, life and death, but mostly they can't be either without the other. "I want you," she says and it's really that simple. She wants travel and adventure, strength and beauty and light. She wants someone who won't judge her when she loses control.

"And Tyler?" Klaus asks, his voice tight and clipped. He's staring at the floor again, and it makes something twist inside Caroline to see him so scared.

She cups his face, tilts his chin so he has to look into her eyes. She hopes hers say everything she can't put into words: _I want you, I need you, there's no one else for me…_ "That ended a long time ago. I just wasn't ready to let go." She takes off the bracelet and turns it in her hand so the sun and moon charm shimmer dully in the florescent lights. "I started this for him, but now it's about you." She slips the bracelet into her purse and twines her arms around his neck. "You promised me the world. I'm not ready to go home yet."

He laughs, a real, honest laugh that lights up his eyes and draws crinkles in the corners of his mouth, and kisses her again, soft and sweet but full of promises.

She loses herself in him, lets go of the girl she was, embraces the woman she was meant to be.

* * *

><p>Writers live for feedback – please leave some if you have the time.<p> 


	8. Author's Note

After much deliberation, I'm marking this fic closed. It ended largely because I endured a lengthy bout of writer's block after the season three hiatus, but also because canon diverted so far from anything I imagined for this fic. There was to be one final chapter, but every time I tried to write it, I realized I'd accomplished all I wanted for Caroline. Will Caroline/Klaus stay together forever? Maybe. I don't know, and didn't know even when I was writing the fic. But my version of Caroline was settled in the woman she was becoming, and accepting of a partner who could show her the world. So it's done. Thank you for the enormous outpouring of support while the fic was active, the years it languished in work in progess status. I appreciate all the responses, comments, and feedback for this fic. It was so much fun to write and I hope you all enjoyed. THANK YOU.


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